A Convenient Arrangement
by fyd818
Summary: There are many stages to growing, to life, to love. . . Tragedy, comedy, passion, heartbreak. . . And, all within, a story to be lived and told. RononTeyla AU .:On Hiatus:.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own "Stargate: Atlantis" and don't claim to. (If I did, Teyla and Ronon would be happily married with half-a-dozen kids by now.) I am making no monetary gain from this, it is meant for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: There are many stages to growing, to life, to love. . . Tragedy, comedy, passion, heartbreak. . . And, all within, a story to be lived and told. RononTeyla AU

Rating: T

Warnings: Fluff, violence

Pairing: Ronon/Teyla

Title: _A Convenient Arrangement_

Author: fyd818

Part 1/?

**Dedication**: To _Mama Jo_ – I hope your birthday is a happy, fun, and fantastic event. Love you, Mom! -hugs-

**Author's note**: Both my mother and I are adoring fans of the works of the magnificent Georgette Heyer, and gobble up as many of her books as we can get our hands on. This is in the spirit of her books, a regency romance where not everything may be as it seems – at first or even second glance. I really hope you enjoy this fic, and thanks for taking the time to check it out!

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"**A Convenient Arrangement"**

_fyd818_

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-Prologue-

Athos seemed to be the opposite of Sateda in almost every way. While it was obvious the settlement was rather large and well-populated, it seemed to fourteen-year-old Ronon Dex that the wide open spaces around it was more the norm. But, like any adventurous boy his age, he was willing enough to go exploring.

"Behave," Ronon's father, Rowan, warned. Then he went off with the village's head, Tughan Emmagan, to talk about trade negotiations and tribe alliances and other things Ronon didn't care a hoot about.

He wanted to _explore_, and the confines of the village weren't good enough for him. Ignoring the nagging voice in his head – that, oddly enough, sounded like his mother Michaela – he took off into the surrounding woods.

It didn't take Ronon long to lose himself among the trees. Out of sight of the village, he felt a little more confident of not being caught. He forayed further, ducking under low-hanging branches and navigating his way over fallen logs.

Washed-out green light filtered through the trees, highlighting the moss that coated every available surface. A slow _drip, drip, drip_ from the leaves above gave him the impression that Athos was a very rainy place – though that, he thought, might be unfair. Like Sateda, they could just have a cold, rainy season. It didn't necessarily have to be cold and wet all the time.

"Who goes there?"

The shout from the trees above made Ronon nearly jump out of his skin. His hand shot to the knife his father had given him for his thirteen birthday, after he'd completed the ceremony to receive his rights of manhood. Dropping into a crouch to make himself as small a target as possible, he turned his gaze up to find the crier.

A youthful face stared at him through the branches. At first he thought it was a sentry, until a lithe body dropped to a lower branch. "Got you!" a feminine voice mocked.

Ronon narrowed his eyes at the young girl, who balanced easily on the slippery branch. "Funny. Good thing you're up there – otherwise I'd take your head off." He stood, reluctantly sheathing his knife on the way up.

The girl shifted another branch down, but made sure to stay out of his reach. Settling into a sitting position, she dangled her bare feet and grasped the branch with both hands to stay on. Her dark eyes sparkled at him from her tanned face, framed by shoulder-length golden brown hair. "Greetings," she said. "I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tughan."

"Really? Tughan, as in the leader of Athos?" Ronon gazed up at her interestingly.

Teyla nodded. "I am supposed to be sitting and learning during Papa's negotiations with some outworlders today, but I find that a bore. I would rather play in the trees and find trespassers." She laughed unrepentantly.

Ronon climbed up the tree to sit on the branch across from hers. "I'm Ronon Dex, from Sateda. I'm the son of the man who came to talk to your father."

She eyed him suspiciously, then shrugged and grinned. "Nice to meet you. Why did you come here with him? Athos is not exactly the most _interesting_ world."

He braced his back against the bole of the tree, carefully stretching his legs along the length of the branch as he crossed his arms. "I like to explore new places," he said. "I can usually find _something_ interesting wherever we travel. I found you, didn't I?"

Teyla grinned again, looking entirely too smug for her own good. "You know, it is very easy to get lost in these woods. People have ventured too far and never been seen again."

"And yet here you are, and here I am." Ronon wasn't sure what to make of this slip of a girl, who seemed more and more like a warrior – a witty one at that. From what he'd gleaned of his brief interaction with Tughan, it seemed Teyla's father was more of a diplomat than a warrior. It intrigued Ronon, the difference between father and daughter. He wondered where she'd gotten her spitfire spirit.

"Hmm." Teyla shifted her weight on the branch, once more settling into a crouch. She looked like a little – but dangerous – cat waiting to pounce. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," Ronon said warily. "I took the Right at thirteen, though. I _am_ a man."

She eyed him with an air indifference that unnerved him. "Hmm," she said again.

Ronon hated to have to ask. "How old are you?"

"I am thirteen, two moons past the Woman's Ceremony." She grinned again, showing a few more teeth than strictly necessary. Glancing down, she leaped from branch to branch, then to the ground, with the speed and assurance of a person familiar with the action. "Come," she said. "We need to return to the village before people come to find us. We will get in trouble."

Ronon followed her down, trying to ignore her smirk as she watched his slower pace. At least he kept himself from falling on his behind at the bottom, like he was sure he was going to. Trees in Sateda were few and far between. "Okay."

They parted ways in the village, each assured they would not see each other again. Ronon was just in time to meet his father coming out of the Athosian meeting tent. "How did it go?" he asked after Rowan had shaken hands with Tughan and he and Ronon headed back to the Ring.

"Very well. The Athosians are kind people, and we are well on the way toward negotiating a solid truce." He hesitated. "There's just one more thing to be ironed out, but it is hardly a problem."

"What is it?" Ronon asked. He was naïve, so naïve. He should have known his father's hesitation spelled _trouble_.

Rowan stopped, holding onto his son's shoulder so Ronon would stop, too. "The Athosians and Satedans may be far separated technologically, but we do have something in common."

Ronon felt his gut tighten. _Uh-oh._

Rowan smiled, but it lacked its normal mirth and confidence. "The final thing needed to cement our truce is an arranged match," he said. "Tughan's daughter – the future leader of the Athosians – to a Satedan of high rank."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ronon asked, though he already knew.

His father drew in a deep breath. "Ronon – tomorrow you and I will return to Athos so you can meet your future bride."

_-To Be Continued-_


	2. Teyla

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 2/?

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-Chapter 1-

_Teyla_

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"I _hate_ being a girl," Teyla muttered under her breath.

With the insults of Tayreen and her band of giggling bubbleheads still fresh in her mind, Teyla dutifully followed her father across the village to their home. After the other girl had called Teyla a Wraith witch (she couldn't help the fact she could sense the Wraith!), the younger Athosian had promptly punched Tayreen in the face – then escaped to the solitude of her favorite tree to be alone.

That had lasted for all of five minutes. After Ronon Dex found her, she lost all hope of being alone. But she had found an opportunity to take out her frustration on the boy, so that helped her mood considerably. Though, from the expression on Tughan's face, she just _knew_ her day was about to take another nosedive.

"Sit down, Teyla."

Teyla obeyed. "If this is about my punching Tayreen, I am sorry. I will apologize. But she—"

Tughan's eyebrows went up, and immediately she regretted her words. "Hmm," he said, but that seemed to be the end of that.

_No reprimand. Whew._ Teyla curled her legs up to her chest to make herself as little as possible and waited to hear what was on her father's mind.

"Do you remember what we discussed the other day, when the first Satedans came through the Ring?"

She thought back. "Yes." _Oh, no._ Teyla swallowed hard. _Surely_ he didn't mean. . .

Tughan leaned forward. "You know I love you, Teyla. I am very proud of you, and your mother would be proud of you, too, if she were still alive."

Teyla nodded. Her throat closed, refusing to allow her to answer verbally.

"One of the Satedans returned today, and he brought his son with him. Rowan Dex is a fine man, Teyla – I trust him. He assures me his son is an honorable boy, well on the way toward being the finest soldier on Sateda."

_Are we talking about the same boy?_ Teyla wondered.

"Ronon is only a year older than you. He comes from a well-to-do family, and he'll be able to take good care of you."

Teyla felt her blood begin to boil. _Surely_ her father wasn't saying what she _thought_ he was saying!

Tughan paused his pacing before her to place his hands on her shoulders. "Teyla, Rowan is bringing his son back here tomorrow so you can officially meet him. After you have had some time to get to know each other – when you come of age – you will marry Ronon."

She shrugged off her father's hands. "You _arranged_ a marriage for me?!" Even she heard the note of hysterical panic in her voice. "With _him_? He cannot even climb a tree correctly!" Teyla hadn't meant for the last part to come out – but she _did_ mean it.

Her father didn't seem to notice. "Teyla," he said reprovingly, his forehead wrinkled in mixed concern and frustration. "I am not trying to rush you into this. You and Ronon will have five _years_ to get to know each other. I only knew your mother for six months before I married her. You know I loved her."

Teyla threaded her fingers through her hair. "I cannot _believe_ you did this!" She didn't _want_ to be in arranged marriage, let alone with Ronon Dex. He'd struck her as too confident, too sure of himself. He would drive her _crazy_. "I do not want to marry him! I do not want to marry _anyone_ I do not know, do not love!"

Tughan sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Teyla – I know you are not happy with me right now, and I understand that. But _please_, you must understand that I am doing this for your own good. Ronon can take very good care of you."

"I can take care of myself!" Teyla yelled. "I am not some helpless female simpering around waiting to be rescued!"

Another sigh escaped her father as ran a hand through his hair. "Teyla, my daughter. I am not trying to imply that you cannot take care of yourself. You have an amazing talent for just that, actually. All I am saying—"

"What about the secret?" Teyla challenged him. "What am I supposed to tell him? It is bad enough that my own people call me a Wraith witch. Can you imagine what the out-worlders would do, or say, if they found out about my curse?"

Tughan took Teyla by her shoulders. "Teyla, it is not a curse! It is a gift. Many Athosians have been saved because of those like you. You are _special_. You have the ability to save this village, which is one of the many reasons why you will lead our people after I am gone."

Teyla shrugged off her father's hands. "I do not want to be _special_," she said. "I want to be _normal_." The nightmares of that cold pit in her stomach, the darkness in her mind, the sheer terror of what had visited the night her mother was killed, made her hands shake. She curled them into fists to hide her weakness. "It did not save my mother, nor the many who were taken that night. What makes you think it will save me, or those in the village _now_?"

"You do not have to tell your betrothed about it now. In fact, you do not have to tell him until after you have been married for twenty years, as far as I am concerned." Tughan sounded frustrated and tired. "Please, Teyla. This is an important alliance, and from what I've seen of young Ronon, he is a very kind young man. I know he will treat you right. Please show him the same respect and courtesy you would show any other—"

"—Suitor who would come to call for you to choose to marry me?" Teyla shot back. "I do not love him, and I do not plan to."

Tughan looked at her with sad eyes. "Sometimes you do not _plan_ to fall in love," he said softly. "Sometimes it just _happens_. You have no control over it."

Teyla snatched up her shoulder satchel and shrugged it on. "Well, I plan to have control over _this_ match!" she said stormily. "Good luck finding me!" Turning, she ran from the tent. Once past the village limits, she picked up the pace as she entered the woods.

For however long it took to convince her father of his wrongness, she would spend that time in her favorite tree. And no one – absolutely _no one_ – would convince her to come down.

Climbing up to the natural nest some closely woven branches made, Teyla stretched out and curled up with a blanket. The woods were creepy at night, but Teyla wouldn't go back home. She was here until her father came to apologize and tell her the whole thing was called off.

No matter _how_ long it would take.

_-To Be Continued-_

**TheWelcomeStranger**: Wow, thank you! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to give you that update, though. I hope it was worth the wait! Thank you so much for the review!

**Bunnylass**: Very true! Really? Wow, thank you so much! I thought it would be interesting to write Teyla and Ronon younger – what they might be like as teens if they met. I think they would have had a bit of a personality conflict. . . LOL I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update this – but I hope it was worth the wait, that you enjoy it! Thank you so much for the review!

**Alexiel974**: Really? Wow! I've read a couple of them, but they were younger children when they met. I wondered what it'd be like if they met when they were teenagers – and, in a way, _forced_ to fall in love (at least – that's what it seems at the moment. . .). I'm sorry it's taken so long to update this, but I hope it was worth the wait! Thank you so much for the review!


	3. Ronon

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 3/?

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-Chapter 2-

_Ronon_

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"How did it go?"

Ronon stopped flat in his tracks, staring at his mother in disbelief. For a moment, he wondered if Michaela had been _in_ on the whole arranged-marriage thing.

Michaela Dex's smile faltered. Her dark green eyes looked past Ronon's shoulder to her husband, who loomed in the doorway. "What happened?" she whispered. She looked fearful, like she expected Rowan's response to speak of disaster.

Knowing it would be pointless to "escape" to his room, Ronon leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. _This_ was going to be good.

Rowan looked pointedly at his son, giving him a _you behave!_ look before turning back to his wife. "We have successfully bartered an alliance with the Athosians," he said. "Their leader, Tughan, is a very talented negotiator. It was one of the easiest discussions I've ever had, actually."

Ronon bit his lip hard to smother a snort. Tughan was probably _desperate_ to marry his hard-headed daughter off. Too bad _he'd_ been the one unfortunate enough to "win" the girl.

"The Athosians didn't have very many stipulations, actually. Though their culture _is_ different than ours, and not as technologically inclined, we do have one tradition in common."

Michaela's eyes suddenly lit up. All hopes Ronon had of his mother defending him went down the drain.

"Ronon and I will return to Athos tomorrow so he can meet Teyla, Tughan's daughter." Rowan grinned, proud. "Our future daughter-in-law."

It was all Ronon could do to contain his groan. _How_ again had he landed in this mess?

His mother made a happy sound, crossing the distance between them in three strides so she could hug him. "Ronon!" she declared. "I am so happy!"

_Well, I'm glad _one_ of us is._ Biting his tongue so hard he tasted blood, he just managed to keep the words from escaping his mouth. Smiling politely, he hugged his mother back. No matter how much he hated this idea, he did love his mother. He hated disappointing her. "Thanks, Mom."

Michaela laughed happily and went to kiss Rowan. "Oh, I can hardly wait to meet her!" she declared. "You will have to bring her here for a meal sometime, Ronon. Let's see, I can fix. . ." Her voice trailed off as she went to the pantry, already planning a feast the likes even the Chieftain of Sateda didn't see. He sighed.

Rowan caught his eyes from across the kitchen. "I'm proud of you," he said. "You're taking this much better than I thought."

Ronon shrugged carelessly. "Why not?" he said bitterly. "I have no choice in the matter. You and her father have already arranged everything, so what's the point in worrying?"

His father's eyes narrowed. "Ronon. . ."

"There's no point, Dad. I have no say in this. You know something? I don't _have_ to meet her tomorrow. I already have. While you and the Athosian leader were planning my future, I met the unfortunate young woman. She was up a tree, 'guarding' the area from intruders." He snorted. "Hard-headed, egotistical—"

"Ronon Dex!" Rowan's voice rumbled with that low note heralding certain doom and destruction – most particularly curtailing of his freedom.

Ronon shut his mouth, averting his eyes. He wasn't ashamed, though. How could he be? He'd spoken nothing but the truth. He only hoped his mother had been out of earshot. Sometimes, the gentle Michaela had a worse temper than her warrior husband.

"You _will_ be polite to her, no matter what you think. Did you even take the time to talk to her? To learn about her life, what she's like beyond what you saw and presumed of her?"

It took great effort not to flinch. "We did not have much time to talk," he said. "She was too busy—"

Rowan's sigh interrupted him. "Ronon," he said. The weight of the disappointment in that one word dragged at his shoulders.

At that moment, Michaela came hurrying back into the room. She stopped when she saw the expressions on her family's faces. "Ronon?" she asked quietly.

He avoided his mother's gaze. "I'm sorry," he said. He knew those words would be enough, yet insufficient at the same time.

A faltering smile twitched her lips. "Well," she said, "I suppose I can't blame you." But the passion for her planned dinner party was gone from her eyes.

Feeling horribly guilty, Ronon mumbled an apology and went to his room. _My life is over._

**-Athos-**

A visibly panicked Tughan Emmagan met Ronon and Rowan at the edge of the village the next day. Though the two men went a little distance away to converse, Ronon still heard every word that was said.

"I am afraid there is a – _problem_," Tughan said.

"What's wrong?" Rowan asked.

"After you and your son departed last night, I told my daughter about what had transpired. Unfortunately, she – did not take the news well. She ran off, and I do not know where she went. We have been searching all day, and we cannot find her."

Ronon had a pretty good idea where the girl had gone. He took three steps closer to his father and Tughan, and cleared his throat.

The two men spun to face him.

"If I may," Ronon said, "I believe I know where she is. May I go search for her?"

"Yes," Tughan and Rowan said at the same time. There was surprise, as well as obvious relief, in both their voices as they made to follow him.

Ronon stayed put. "I doubt she'd come willingly if we all go tramping after her," he said. "I would prefer to follow her _alone_. I'll bring her back." Though, in a way, he was half-tempted to hide with her. At least she'd had the guts to run away.

Rowan and Tughan exchanged exasperated looks. "Very well," Tughan said.

"Come back _soon_," Ronon's father stressed.

Rolling his eyes, Ronon nodded and took off. Just in case they were following him, he led them on a bit of a maze-like adventure through the village. He went into the trees; once under cover of the shadows, he moved in a different direction of where he was sure Teyla was hiding. He waited for a while, but no one came after him.

Satisfied, he struck off through the woods. Following the same path he had the day before, it didn't take him long to find the tree where Teyla had been hiding the day before – and Teyla herself.

"Came back, did you?" The scorn in the girl's voice was obvious.

Ronon casually propped his shoulder against the tree trunk. Gazing up through the branches to her, he said, "Your father's been looking for you all night, you know."

Silence met his comment. A few moments passed, then Teyla swung from branch to branch down the tree. Pausing a half-dozen feet above his head, she said hesitantly, "Is he _too_ worried?"

"No. More aggravated, I think." At least, he'd _looked_ aggravated. Maybe a little worried – but mostly mad.

Teyla sighed. "There goes my freedom for the rest of the moon cycle," she muttered.

Reluctantly, Ronon worked his way up the tree until he was sitting on the branch just below and across from hers. "I'm guessing this means he told you?"

She glared at him. "What was your first clue?" she snapped.

Ronon held up his hands. "Whoa! Trust me, I am _not_ any happier about this than you are."

Teyla savagely pressed the ball of her foot into the moss covering the trunk of the tree. "Why'd you come looking for me, then?" she asked sulkily. "When I saw you down there, I thought you'd come to sweep me off my feet and woo me into your arms." She glared suspiciously at him. "In fact, I'm not entirely convinced that that _isn't_ your intention."

His lips twisted into a sarcastic smile. "Trust me. I'm not here to woo _anyone_. No offense to you – you seem like a nice enough girl—"

She snorted. "Are you kidding? Yesterday your expression fairly _screamed_ what you thought of me – and it wasn't nice."

Ronon shook his head. "Maybe I changed my mind, okay?"

Teyla coughed a laugh. "Sure. So, why are you here?"

"To take you home." He paused, then smiled. "And to give you a proposition, if you're willing to listen."

She groaned. "If you pull a marriage bracelet out of your pocket, I am going to push you out of this tree. And if you happen to break your neck on the way down. . ." She trailed off, shrugging casually.

She had guts, he had to give her that. Carefully, he shifted a little farther away from her. "It won't do any good to fight this," he said. He held his hands up quickly when he saw her foot inching toward him. Teetering unsteadily, he said, "Please hear me out!"

Sighing, Teyla lowered her foot and stared intensely at him from beneath her lowered eyebrows.

Ronon clutched at his branch again to stay in the tree. "Look," he said. "I know you don't want to marry me. And _I_ don't want to marry _you_. But our parents are so enthusiastic about this, I think the only way to get them off our backs – at least for a while – is to act like we're getting along."

Teyla's eyebrows rose. "How does this help us _not_ have to marry each other?" she demanded.

"Maybe if we get along better, and don't fight them about it, they'll be more willing to listen to us," he offered.

She sat staring at him for a long time. He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she considered his words. "It _does_ make sense. . ." she said hesitantly. "Father _does_ like it when everyone can get along. Maybe he _would_ be more likely to listen."

Ronon grinned. "Friends?" he asked.

Teyla glared at him for another moment, then sighed and gently nudged his leg with her foot. "Friends," she conceded grudgingly.

_-To Be Continued-_

**Alexiel974**: I know! I've spent a lot of time wondering how young Teyla would react to certain things – what she would be like as a teenager. Moody? Sullen? Perky? Or as calm and cool as ever? I guess you can guess which one I came up with. LOL Thank you so much for the review, and for your patience between updates! I'm sorry it takes me so long – but this year has been crazy! But I promise to try very hard to update everything at least once a week. Thanks again – and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bunnylass**: It's okay! I know it's confusing, trying to track down everything and remember where you left off when the e-mail alerts go down. -grumbles- I'm just glad they're working again! I'm glad you thought Teyla's mini temper-tantrum was amusing to read. It was kind of hard trying to decide how she'd act – everyone is different as teens, so I went with that theme for Teyla. She mellowed out as she got older. LOL The answer to your question(s) are in this chapter – who, how, and why! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this update doesn't disappoint!

**bailey1ak**: Thank you! I know what you mean. Both Ronon and Teyla are very independent and headstrong, and an arranged marriage is the last thing they're going to want. I'm glad you liked the preceding two chapters, and I hope you enjoy this one, too! Thank you so much for the review!


	4. Feral

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 4/?

**-Chapter 3-**

_Feral_

Ronon glanced over his shoulder. Both his father and Teyla's were still within earshot, so they had to be civil. "My mother wants to meet you," he said.

Teyla shifted on the log bench where they sat so she faced him better. "What is your mother like?"

"I think you'll like her. She's a really nice person – you know, for a mother. But don't _ever_ get on the bad side of her temper. She'll either scream at you like a banshee or give you this _look_ that makes you feel so guilty you'll go around with your tail tucked between your legs for a week. To be honest, I'm not sure which is worse." Ronon sighed. "What's your mother like?"

"She – is dead," Teyla said softly. For a moment her façade cracked, and he saw the pain on her face.

"I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. "I didn't mean to bring back awful memories."

"It is fine. The Wraith – during the last culling, almost five years ago, they took a lot of people. But Mother was killed when the monsters destroyed our village. She—" Suddenly she snapped her mouth closed and shook her head. "Not even that could save her," she whispered, as if to herself.

Ronon wanted to ask, but was sure he wouldn't get a polite answer. Besides, it was obvious the poor girl was already in enough emotional pain without his adding to it. "Sorry," he whispered again.

Teyla smiled wanly. "That was five years ago. The pain – it lessens, in time. We try not to let our fear of the Wraith rule us, govern our movements or our lives. Perhaps we cannot put up a fight worthy of destroying them. But we can live in defiance of their ways, not constantly looking to the skies in fear of their ships, or running away each time the Ring activates." A little more life came back into her eyes as she looked at him. "That was, of course, until _you_ came."

"I'm sure I would have reacted the same way if you and your father had come to Sateda." Ronon looked away, out toward the hustle and bustle of Teyla's village. He hoped his father hadn't heard him – perhaps that had been a _little_ too harsh. He changed the subject, just in case. "So – do you think you'll be in too much trouble with your dad?"

"No." She hesitated. "Well – maybe. A little. As I said, he likes it when everyone gets along. Besides, he's not going to jeopardize our courtship by restricting my freedom." She sighed heavily. "So, as much as I hate to admit it, I suppose I _do_ owe you a little."

Ronon half-bowed, not easy considering his seated position. "Happy to be of service, m'lady."

Teyla chuckled. He was surprised by how different she looked when she laughed. "So – when am I supposed to meet your mother?"

"I don't know. She just wants me to 'bring you home to dinner' one day. Trust me – you'll get a feast like not even the Chieftain sees."

"Is that a good thing?"

Ronon realized she didn't know anything about his culture, about their people and traditions. "Yeah, I guess so. If you want to feel like a overstuffed animal for the next two days."

Teyla smiled. "Maybe she will teach me how to cook."

"You can't cook?" Ronon stared at her in shock.

Immediately, he saw the defensive fire relight in her eyes. Her posture noticeably stiffened. "Not every woman can cook," she snapped. "Besides, that is not _all_ we are useful for."

He held up his hands. "Hey!" he said. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything by it." He decided to keep quiet after that. Better to say nothing than the wrong thing.

Teyla shook her head. "Sorry," she sighed. "It would appear I am being a bad hostess."

"It's fine. I'm – being a bad guest." If _only_ their fathers would move out of earshot! They had to be sticking close deliberately – just to make sure their children got along well with each other.

Tracing patterns in the dirt with one bare foot, Teyla asked, "Do you Bantos spar?"

Ronon felt a grin stretch his lips. "Yes! It was one of the first methods of fighting my father taught me. You?"

Teyla looked up, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "My mother – and various other trainers – have taught me. Care to spar?"

"Now?"

A feral grin once more made him think of her as a little, dangerous cat. "Unless you are too scared?" she asked. There was a little too much innocence in her tone.

"Of you?" He scoffed. "Let's go." Hopefully their venture would be approved of by their guards. . .

As they both jumped to their feet, Rowan cleared his throat from a few feet away. "Where are you going?"

Ronon shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Teyla can Bantos spar," he said. "We're going to practice."

An almost exasperated expression darkened Tughan's face, but he nodded. "I only request you two do not go into the woods. They are dangerous."

_Apparently he doesn't know his daughter runs off to the woods almost every day,_ Ronon thought wryly. "Yes sir." He looked to Rowan, who shrugged. "Be a gentleman," was the only thing he said.

Teyla appeared next to him silently. She nudged his arm with her elbow and held out two Bantos rods. "Here," she said. "Come on."

"Not into the woods!" Tughan called after them.

"Yes, Father!" Teyla called over her shoulder. Ronon offered a polite smile to the two men before running off after her. "We're going into the woods, aren't we?" he asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"No," Teyla said. "I know of a clearing out of sight and hearing range of the village, but still close enough to not be considered 'the woods.'" She grinned. "May the best warrior win."

"The best," Ronon agreed. His father had warned him to be a "gentleman" – and he planned on it. There was no point in pulverizing the poor girl – it was hard enough already to get along with her!

Teyla's "clearing" was more like a miniature bowl-shaped arena. Surrounded on three sides by the ominously quiet woods, with the way back to the village making the fourth side, Ronon felt like he was hemmed in. "This is where we're going to fight?"

"Sure." Teyla shrugged gracefully. "The ground is fairly smooth, and the area is open enough to offer us plenty of room to spar. We use this place for celebration, and to train." She raised her eyebrows. "If you would rather fight somewhere else. . ." She trailed off, her last words sounding rather like a challenge.

"No. Here is fine."

She grinned, settling into a fighting stance with a rod in each hand. "Let us begin."

Ronon hung back, waiting for her to attack first. She paced around him, her stance one of a person well-versed in the art. He swallowed. _Clever girl. . ._

Teyla attacked. All thoughts of "gentlemanly" behavior fled his mind as he fought back. There were a few girls where he trained professionally for the army, but _none_ of them had the same fierceness and feline swiftness as Teyla.

A harsh whap across his shoulders made him yelp. Gritting his teeth firmly, Ronon resisted voicing the protest that immediately rose to his lips. Maybe he _wouldn't_ go easy on her, then.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Ronon felt gawky, awkward, _clumsy_ with his height. In all his previous matches, his height and build had made it easier for him to rule the match, to dominate his opponents. A natural penchant for sparring had helped, too. But Teyla – she was so small, and graceful, and _fast_. She was always gone before his rod even got close to the place where she'd been just a second before.

Teyla merely smiled sweetly when he growled ferociously at her. She looked like a harmless little kitten when she did that, so sweet and innocent and pretty. But Ronon knew for a fact she had claws and teeth. Sharp ones.

It was time for her to discover that he, too, had something with which to fight.

Ronon drew all his control back to him, forcing himself to use his own height against her. She was so much smaller – she might be fast, but not even she could withstand him. He was sure of it.

Teyla fell back step by step as he rained blows down onto her blocking Bantos rods. She spun, ducked, defended, and Ronon knew he was going to win. It was only a matter of time before he could trip her, pin her, and declare himself the winner.

Until Teyla hit the grass, rolled on her shoulder, and thrust out her leg. His got tangled around the smaller appendage, and he fell hard. His breath coughed out of his lungs, leaving him defenseless as she crouched over him, feet planted on either side of his waist, rear on his stomach, Bantos rods crossed at his throat, and a wide, smug grin on her lips. "Ha," she said simply.

"You—!" he growled out, but couldn't finish his sentence. He was too out of breath.

"We have a saying from which you could benefit, I think. 'The harder you charge, the harder you fall.'" She offered him another angelic smile.

"Get. Off. Me." His hands were free, and now empty. He could push her off if he wanted. But he didn't think he should – and he definitely knew she wouldn't want that.

"Very well." Teyla scrambled to her feet, then toed his rods toward him. "Here. Shall we meet again, tomorrow? Same time, same place?"

Ronon narrowed his eyes. Rolling back onto his shoulders, he thrust himself to his feet. Grasping his rods in his free hands, he loomed over her, this time happy about his height. "Next time, I'll win."

Teyla, looking unimpressed, smiled politely and walked away.

_-To Be Continued-_

**bailey1ak**: Thank you! Yes, a lot of the characters' main traits are going to be in the story, despite all the new and different things I am bringing out, as well. Exactly! Though they're still finding it really hard to get along in this chapter. . . Thank you so much for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bunnylass**: Thank you! I was kind of afraid going into the story, afraid that everything would be _too_ different. I'm trying to keep the basics of what makes Teyla and Ronon who they are, while adding some teenage angst and "suffering" to the mix. They're finding things a bit of a tough go in this chapter – I really hope you enjoy it! (It was definitely fun to write, LOL!) Thank you so much for the review!

**Alexiel974**: Oh, thank you! I enjoyed writing the moment where they made the grudging pact to be friends – at least when their fathers are around! I'm glad you enjoyed the moment where she tried to push him out of the tree – it's one of my favorites! Thank you for being so understanding about my somewhat spotty updates – I've been fighting a major league case of writer's block, and it just released tonight, so I got to write! -hugs- Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**TheWelcomeStranger**: Sorry it took so long! I've been fighting a major case of writer's block. But that's over now – I'll try to update soon hereafter! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter – I had a lot of fun writing it!

**Lazaro**: Thank you! I'm glad you find them cute. I must admit it's a different and fun way to write them, as rebellious, angsty teenagers instead of as they are as adults. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this update!


	5. Good Fortune

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 5/?

**-Chapter 4-**

_Good Fortune_

Ronon's bruises, left over from the sparring match with Teyla the day before, didn't hurt nearly as badly as his pride. That had gotten smacked – and good – when Teyla had taken him down. And then she'd brushed him off, like it had taken her no effort to defeat him. Which, from what he remembered, it hadn't. He'd never felt so, so _humiliated_ in his life.

But today, he planned to be ready for her.

The wind began to pick up as Ronon and Teyla left the village, silently trudging back to the clearing with Bantos rods in hand. "It's going to storm," Ronon predicted.

"A little rain never hurt anyone. Unless you think you will melt?"

The challenge in her eyes made him all the more determined to stick it out with her. "No. But you might."

Teyla scowled. "I have learned to fight in the rain, wind, snow, ice – in fact, all the many forms of horrible weather. I will not be affected."

Ronon spun his sticks in his hands, unable to resist showing off a little. "Well then. I think it's time we get started."

The rain held off for a little while as they fought. This time, Ronon had hindsight – and he'd had time to pick apart the last fight in his mind, over and over all night. He'd memorized Teyla's every move from the day before, and carefully crafted good defenses for them. Along with, of course, a few moves of his own. He wouldn't lose again today.

However, Teyla soon proved unaffected in the face of his hard work. She easily pulled out new moves he'd never seen before, seamlessly integrating them with her old ones, as if she'd pulled them from the air and woven them together like a rug. It was all Ronon could do to keep up; he couldn't see a way to get ahead of her. If he had to make the fight go all day, though, he would. He did not plan to lose again.

When the rain came, it arrived like a waterfall. Ronon had never seen so much rain, which quickly slicked the ground and soaked them to the bone. Teyla kicked off her simple shoes, her bare feet easily gaining traction on the muddy ground. His special-made sparring shoes definitely didn't help in mud, so he instantly followed suit, surprised at how much easier he could keep his balance.

The downpour made their rods slippery in their hands, but they still managed to fight at just as high intensity as before. Ronon tossed his short, wet dreads out of his face during a lull in the fight, at the same time watching her pace like a feline around him. Teyla's eyes glittered dangerously through the rain dripping from her hair and eyelashes. She grinned, as if she _knew_ she intimidated him. He hated her for that.

Her clothes dripped with muddy water, hanging loosely from her shoulders and waist. He hadn't noticed before how thin she was, thinner than any girl he'd ever met. Like she was sick, or just recovering from being sick. Like she hadn't, or wasn't able to, eat enough. She looked delicate and breakable. Ronon's brain scrambled with this new observation, trying to compare the image he now saw with the masterful girl who'd so soundly beaten him the day before. Something just didn't add up.

Temporarily distracted by this new perception, Ronon didn't see her coming until he suddenly found himself flat on his back with Teyla on top of him again. This time, though, he used his free hands to his advantage. Without stopping to think, he forcefully grabbed her rods, parting them from his throat. In the same movement, he rocked up into a sitting position, wrapped his arms around her to pin her in place against his chest. . .

. . .And kissed her.

For a brief, timeless moment he became just a boy kissing the girl he was supposed to love, supposed to marry. Her lips were flower-petal soft, surprisingly warm compared to the pervasive cold seeping from the rain, wind, and mud. Her small body fit in his arms perfectly, like she'd been made for him. She—

Her Bantos rod hit him across the back of the head so hard bright points of light exploded behind his closed eyelids. Shocked, Ronon let go and sagged backwards onto his elbows. He blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the fuzzy pain in his head and the dots dancing before his eyes.

Teyla leaned over him, lips drawn back over her teeth, hair hanging in wet strings around her hate-filled face. "Do not _ever_ do that again!" she hissed. She drew back her fist, as if to punch him. Ronon, knowing he deserved it, lay still, waiting for it.

But instead of hitting him, she made a disgusted growling noise in her throat, gathered her Bantos rods, and rose in one smooth movement. Shaking her head at him, she only growled again and stalked off.

Ronon flopped back to lie in the middle of the muddy field, allowing the rain to wash over his face and aching head. Slowly, a small smile formed on his lips. In a way – maybe not strictly honorably, but still in a way – he'd just won. Even though she'd taken him down for the second time, he'd found a way to catch Teyla totally off-guard, too. And except for that one fierce retaliatory whack, she'd stalked off, basically abandoning the field of battle to him.

Victory was, indeed, very sweet.

**-Athos-**

Rowan met his son at the edge of the village. "Where have you been? What did you do?"

Ronon shoved his wet, muddy hair out of his face. "Teyla and I were sparring again. I won. She's probably pouting."

His father scowled. "What did I tell you about playing nice, and being a gentleman?"

"I was yesterday, and she beat me, Father. If I played fair today, the same thing would have happened again." It was doubly humiliating, having to admit that weakness to his father. "She cheated yesterday – so I cheated back today. Now we're even."

Rowan's thunderous expression promised trouble, and _heaps_ of it. "We will discuss this later, Ronon. For now, we must return to Sateda. Michaela requested we bring Teyla home with us, so she can meet your betrothed."

All the joy of winning vanished from Ronon's mind and body. "What?" He remembered Michaela running around the kitchen fussing about food, and everything having to look perfect, but he hadn't paid that much attention. He was too busy plotting his win today – well, the plan he'd had _before_. "She's coming to our house _today_?"

"Tonight. After the evening meal, you will escort her home, and then come back immediately."

_No problem there,_ Ronon thought. Like _he_ wanted to do _that_ with _her_, of all people. One kiss to distract her was bad enough. Ugh.

The rain stopped as Ronon and his father reached Teyla's tent. She emerged wearing a long green dress, simple jewelry adoring her wrists, neck, and ears. The only flashy thing she wore was a braided gold belt around her waist. She'd cleaned up very quickly; though her hair, pulled back and up into an intricate hairstyle, still shone wetly. A deceptively sweet smile curled her lips. "Specialist Dex. Ronon." When she looked at Ronon, a flash of sarcasm lit her eyes.

Ronon glared at her.

Rowan and Teyla chatted politely all the way to the Ring. The latter shot Ronon's father rapid-fire questions about Sateda, apologizing demurely for her curiosity. She didn't want to do anything wrong and offend anybody while she was there.

Ronon made a face at her back. Apparently she was only concerned with offending _most_ of the Satedans. He didn't care. This whole thing was a set up. Neither he nor Teyla planned for it to go so far as marriage. They would call the whole thing off themselves later. But acting civil to each other in the meanwhile was not going over well with either of them.

Teyla seemed to be fascinated by Sateda. She craned her neck this way and that, staring in awe at the tall buildings lining the streets. Her expression made it clear she'd never been anywhere like Sateda before.

Michaela was waiting when they reached the Dex home. She spread her arms wide and hugged Teyla, greeting her like a long-lost daughter. In the face of his mother's greeting to the Athosian girl, Ronon felt every bit as muddy and run-down as he looked. Rolling his eyes, he avoided his mother's raised eyebrow and disapproving look. Escape into his room felt like arriving in paradise. He lingered during his hot shower, enjoying the feel of the water, and loathe to go to the kitchen. Undoubtedly, Teyla would be the golden child of the evening.

Ronon had not been kidding when he told Teyla the spread on the table would include more food than the Chieftain of Sateda saw yearly. Dishes Ronon had never seen, let alone knew the names of, weighed down the solid wood table. Teyla sat at her place with wide eyes, staring at all the food. "I-I appreciate your – most generous hospitality," she said softly to Rowan and Michaela.

Ronon's mother reached over to squeeze the young girl's hand. "Dear, it's no problem! It is indeed a pleasure to meet, and cook for, Ronon's future wife."

For a while they were all silent, content to sit and enjoy the meal. As their plates began to empty, Michaela struck up a conversation with Teyla. "How are things on your world? I man – what is day to day life like?" She flushed slightly. "Pardon me for being so forward. I just want to know more about you, understand you better."

Teyla laughed softly, waving off Michaela's apology. "I completely understand," she said. "Specialist Dex was kind enough to tell me much about Sateda. I feel it an honor to return the favor, and tell you all about Athos." With that, she went off into detailed explanations of planting, growing, and harvesting crops; spinning and weaving clothes, blankets, and baskets; and any number of other pieces of useless trivia on Athos. Ronon noticed, however, that she did not mention her secret tree. Apparently that was not "interesting," or pertinent enough to Athosian culture and her life. Or maybe she just liked having a secret place. He felt oddly smug for having found it, even if it was by accident.

Ronon offered little to the conversation, listening as everyone talked around him, but quite aware of his mother's eyes on him from time to time. Apparently she still felt injured by his reaction to Teyla's presence in his life. It was obvious Michaela Dex was quite enamored by the little farm girl, and while Ronon wasn't happy about disappointing his mother, he just _couldn't_ love someone like Teyla. She was too hardheaded, too smug, too self-assured. Too _different_ from him.

Not long after supper, they left Ronon's house arm in arm. But the moment they were out of sight of his parents, Teyla ripped her arm away from his. Crossing her arms, she walked silently beside him through the darkening Satedan streets. "Your mother is nice," she said suddenly.

Surprised, Ronon smiled softly. "Her name means 'angel' in Satedan," he said. "Sometimes I think she really is, and wonder why the Ancestors were so willing to let one of them go. Especially someone like her."

For the first time, a gentle look entered Teyla's eyes. "She is a very sweet person. I-I have not met anyone like her before. In some ways, she reminds me of – of my mother." She looked away, and her hand quickly flashed up to her face.

Ronon felt awkward then, and made himself smother the automatic urge to wrap his arm around her slender shoulders in comfort. "I'm sorry about your mother," he said softly. "I – I bet she was a really nice person."

Teyla rubbed her hands up and down her arms, as if she were cold. "I think she would have liked you," she said unexpectedly. "She always admired people with – spirit." She tossed her hair, which was falling down from its hairstyle. Ronon saw the proud way she held her head, the set of her mouth and the line of her jaw. It wasn't hard to imagine a woman who looked just like her, with the same way of carrying herself, the same set to her features. For a moment, he felt like he'd met Teyla's mother, through her daughter.

They were quiet for the entire walk from the Ring to Teyla's village. They paused outside her tent. The flaps were open. Ronon saw Tughan watching them, though he acted like he wasn't.

Teyla noticed. Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips across his cheek, but her words were venomous. "Tomorrow," she whispered, "you will not be so lucky." With a dangerous grin, she disappeared into her tent. The flaps slapped shut behind her.

Ronon's cheek burned from where her lips had touched him. His blood boiled beneath his skin. _We'll see about that,_ he promised the closed tent flaps. _We'll just wait and see._

_-To Be Continued-_

**TheWelcomeStranger**: Thank you! I know, Teyla is being quite a brat – but she's determined to get away from/drive away Ronon, however she can! I can tell you that this story will stick fairly closely to canon, with a few differences along the way. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bunnylass**: Thank you! I'm glad Teyla and Ronon's teenage ups-and-downs are believable. It's been kind of hard to make them typical teenagers, while still keeping the essence of who the characters are, shaping into who they will be in the future. Well, Ronon's going to try very hard to beat her in this chapter. . . We'll see how he does. -wink- Thank you so much for the review, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!

**Alexiel974**: Yes, definitely! He's _not_ used to getting soundly beaten – especially not by a _girl_, of all insults! I'm glad you liked Ronon's line about "pulverizing the poor girl," though it turned out the other way around! But he's going to pull out all the stops in this chapter. . . Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**bailey1ak**: Thank you! I am glad you liked the sparring match. Giving them a chance to face off with each other and give vent to their dislike seemed a wise course of action, before they both explode! There's some more sparring in this chapter, with Ronon trying to win this time – I hope you like it, too! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**TubaPrincess**: Hi! -tacklehugs- It's good to hear from you again! I'm so glad you think my story's cute, I've wanted to write something like this for ages, but it took me a while to figure out how they'd act as teenagers, considering how they are today! I'm also glad you like the fighting, and Ronon's smugness – there's more in this chapter! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	6. Rationales

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 6/?

**-Chapter 5-**

_Rationales_

"She's a very nice girl, Ronon. Thank you for bringing her home."

Ronon looked up from his sketch pad in surprise. "Sure." He paused to shift on the couch, trying to get a better look at what his mother was working on. "What are you drawing?"

Michaela leaned to the side, pencil still poised over her easel. "I couldn't resist drawing it, not after tonight."

Slumping back down onto the cushions, Ronon worked up as much enthusiasm as he could. "Looks great, Mom."

Michaela smiled satisfactorily and went back to work. Her small hand sailed across the paper confidently, bringing her son and future daughter-in-law to life before her.

Ronon cringed behind her back and went back to his drawing. Trying to recall something – anything – to mind was futile. No matter what he did, the same thing kept showing up on his drawing pad. Teyla, that dangerous look in her eyes, crouched in a fighting stance, ready to pounce on him and tear him to pieces – again. "Ugh." He dropped his pad and pencil over the side of the couch and slumped down. "I give up."

Rowan came in the back door, firewood tucked under his arm. "Give up on what?" he asked.

Ronon toed the top of his sketch pad so the cover flopped over his drawing. "Drawing. For now, at least. I can't think."

Crouching before the fireplace in the corner, Rowan worked quickly to start a fire to warm the chilled front room. "Thank you for walking Teyla home tonight. I hope you were a gentleman."

Blushing deeply, he burrowed himself a little further into the cushions. "Nothing but." Even in the face of Teyla's scorn. Even in the face of his own hatred of her.

Michaela leaned back, twisting her torso to face her husband. "Rowan, what do you think of this?"

Rubbing his hands together, Rowan moved across the room to stand behind her. "It looks good, Mika." He kissed the top of her head. "Just like them."

Ronon closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see his parents look at him with that look, the one that foretold doom and gloom for him, though they saw it as a happy ending for their son.

"I'm thinking about giving it to Teyla as a congratulations gift. What do you think, Ronon?"

Reluctantly, Ronon opened his eyes. "I think she'll think you're very talented. She'll be grateful." It was the nicest thing he could think to say without giving up too much.

Suspicion flickered in Michaela's eyes, but she turned back to work on the drawing some more.

Ronon gathered his sketch pad and pencil. "Good night." He went to kiss his mother on the cheek before hurrying up the stairs to his room. Stretching out on his bed, he flipped up the cover of his pad again, studying his half-finished drawing. Of all things. . .

A knock on the door interrupted him. Leaning over, Ronon tossed his drawing utensils under the bed. "Come in."

Rowan entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. "Mom doesn't know I'm here."

Ronon raised his eyebrows at his father. "So – this is something big?"

A light smile of amusement briefly touched Rowan's face. "Something like that." He motioned to the chair in the corner, and at Ronon's nod sat down. "Son, I know you're not happy about your betrothal to Teyla. I know you think we're trying to rule your lives, to make your decisions for you."

"And you're not?" Ronon found that hard to believe.

"Perhaps, a little." Leaning forward, Ronon's father put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. "The Athosians are as against the Wraith as we are, Ronon. But they're not like us. They don't have the advancements in weaponry and technology that we have. And you know what problems we face, with the drought and famine we have faced these past two years. The Athosians are agrarians, and pull in plentiful harvests every year – almost every season. The agreement between our people and Teyla's is the most important we have ever made in the recorded history of our world."

Ronon flopped back against his pillow and stared at the ceiling. "So don't blow it, right?"

Rowan smiled thinly. "Well, I wouldn't put it quite_ that_ way. Perhaps I can't _completely_ understand your position. I met and married Michaela by my own choice. But we all have to do things we don't want to do. Sometimes it's for the greater good."

Swallowing the bitter taste at the back of his throat, Ronon sighed heavily. "Even if it sacrifices not just my happiness, but hers?"

His father was silent for a long time. "You are my son – my only son, my only _child_, Ronon. I love you more than you can ever understand, except until you have your own children. Whether you believe me or not, I personally am doing this for your good. Even if our leaders are doing this for the good of our people." Rowan smiled. "Give her a chance, Ronon. Perhaps she's not as bad as you think – just like you're not as bad as _she_ thinks." Without another word, he got up and left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Ronon sighed. _Everything is important. But what's good for our people might not be good for me. For _her_. We're too different. I can never love her._ But – for the good of his people – he'd _try_ to be nice. Even if she didn't.

**-Athos-**

When Teyla met him at the edge of the village the next day, Ronon was surprised to see a look of resignation on her face, instead of the usual hostility. "Is this a trick?" he asked immediately.

Her lips twisted into a tired smile. "I wish it were. But I wanted to apologize to you today. I have been – insufferably rude to you."

Ronon still suspected a trick. "This isn't our choice, no matter how we look at it. We're – playing nice to make our parents happy. And for the mutual benefit of our people."

Teyla shook her head, her bare toes digging deep into the ground beneath her. "It seems you've understood that better than I have the whole time." Turning, she nimbly scampered up the tree next to her.

"That's not your tree," Ronon said, looking up through the leafy green branches.

Grinning down at him, she motioned for him to come up to join her. "It will do for now."

Complaining under his breath, Ronon carefully scaled the tree until he could sit on the branch across from hers. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugged. "You are older, for one. Your father – and everyone in my village, for that matter – treats you like a man. I am – just a girl." Teyla propped her shoulder against the bole of the tree. "At least, I was until today."

Ronon's eyebrows hitched upward. "You said the day we met that you've taken the Right. That you're a woman now."

Teyla shook her head. "Just because I passed a few tests, said a few words, doesn't make me a woman. Not to my people, anyway. But today, all that changed. Things are different now. I-I am starting to understand why everything is the way it is."

That made her one up on him. He wasn't sure he liked this new, mellow Teyla. If given a choice, he'd rather things go back the way they were. At least then he knew she hated him, and he hated her – he needed that constant between them, when everything else was so jumbled and uncertain. "Why? What's different?"

Lifting her head, Teyla looked him right in the eyes, her own wide and strangely vulnerable. "Today, my father announced to the tribe that I am to be the next leader of my people."

Ronon blinked. "Wasn't that true before?"

Teyla coughed a laugh. "It was different _then_. I am Tughan Emmagan's daughter, his only child, yes. But that did not necessarily mean he would name me as his successor. It is the choice of the current leader, to name the next in line for leadership before his or her death. Many times in the past, the leader has chosen someone who is _not_ a relative. I never expected my father to name _me_. I was doing everything I could to be difficult, to make him _not_ choose me. I should have known, when our fathers arranged the match for us, that Father _had_ chosen me." She looked away, her jaw hard.

Embarrassed, Ronon looked down. "I'm sorry."

"You should not be. It was not your doing. It was my father's choice."

_His choice._ So far, it seemed like everything having to do with them was someone else's choice. They had no say in their lives – not at the moment, anyway. "So – what happens now?"

Teyla looked back. "I watch and learn. I practice being a leader, which means everyone will come to me with their problems, their questions, their suspicions. There will be many protests. But it is my duty now. Before this is over – perhaps it will be yours, too."

Ronon hadn't thought about it that way. If they _had_ to go through with the marriage, and he became her husband, he'd have to lead Athos with her. "I can see why you hate all this."

"I think you are starting to see. But it will be years before I have to take over for him. Perhaps, by then, we can arrange something else. Something that will give us our freedom, and make everyone else happy, too."

"That would be nice," Ronon agreed.

They both should have known it would not be that easy.

_-To Be Continued-_

**Bunnylass**: Wow, thank you so much! I'm very happy to hear that you really enjoyed the last chapter – it was a lot of fun to write! I was so very tempted to let the fight go on after Teyla clobbered Ronon with her rod, but I think it worked better the way I wrote it – so I'm very glad to hear you liked it that way! Yes, Michaela is very enamored with Teyla, and wants her son to feel the same! Ronon's line about his mother just came to me as I was writing the chapter, so I'm really glad you liked it! Here's the next chapter – I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the review!

**Alexiel974**: LOL! I think so. Ronon just doesn't realize how hardheaded and stubborn _he_ is, too. . . I'm glad you liked the moment between them after dinner, when he was walking her home. They're going to need moments like that in this story, because everything is about to change – for both of them! …And I'd better shut up now. LOL Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: Definitely! Me too. It's so much fun to write them hating each other – seething inwardly around their parents, but able to vent their hatred in private. With that hatred being all the worse, because they kept it pent up so long before their parents. . . It's just fun to write, so I'm glad you're loving reading it! Yes, there are certainly going to be struggles in their future – one of which is coming pretty soon. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -hugs-

**Dia**: LOL No, not five years ago! You read the prologue at my house, remember? You gave your opinion on it to me then. I'm glad you caught that, actually. That is what I'm striving for. I think Ronon was a lot different before he was captured by the Wraith and forced to live seven years as a Runner. I'm striving to rediscover that Ronon, and bring him to – or back to, however you want to look at it – life in this fic. Yes, they both go at each other when sparring – no matter what age! Teenage hormones aren't helping that either, LOL. Neither of them are faking, dear – they really do hate each other. But both of their lives are about to change. Thank you so much for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -hugs-

**TubaPrincess**: Oh, you're very welcome! -hugs again- I'm glad I could help make you feel better! I know I like to receive a tackle hug every now and then, myself – always makes me feel much better! LOL I'm really glad you liked the kiss! That scene has been simmering in my head for a while, waiting for the opportune moment to manifest itself. At first I was going to extend the sparring scene, have them fight some more after the kiss, but I thought this worked better. I'm glad you hear you liked it! Rowan and Ronon have a conversation in this chapter – as well as Teyla and Ronon. They won't see each other _every_ day, but they will be seeing a lot of each other, especially in the chapters to follow. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**bailey1ak**: Wow, thank you so very much! It was a little hard, finding the right words for that moment of the fic, to convey that even though they both still hate each other, Ronon did feel _right_ kissing her, for just that moment. Originally, Teyla was going to punch Ronon, then they were going to fight some more – but I liked her hitting him with her rod and stalking off better, so I'm glad to hear that you liked it that way. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	7. Tragedy

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 7/?

**-Chapter 6-**

_Tragedy_

Ronon had to admit the Athosians knew how to throw a party. As Teyla's betrothed, he'd been invited to the celebration in honor of her being chosen as the next leader of the Athosians. His parents had been invited, too, as well as any other Satedans who wanted to come.

Michaela seamlessly fit in with the Athosians. Ronon's mother was not notoriously a partier, but she knew how to have a good time. Add to that her being a people person, and she almost _became_ an Athosian. It didn't take long for her to pick up on the dances, which she really seemed to enjoy. Michaela had always been an artistic person; though Ronon shared that side of her, he knew dancing wouldn't come _that_ naturally to him. He didn't even try.

The night was half-over before Ronon saw Teyla. She sat at the edge of the proceedings, chin in hand, watching her people party in front of her. The glum expression on her face made him feel _almost_ sorry for her. These were her people! It didn't seem fair that they were throwing the party for her, and they were having fun when she wasn't.

"Hey." Ronon sat down next to her, though he was careful to keep his distance.

Teyla flickered a glance in his direction. "Hello. Have you been enjoying yourself?" Her voice was toneless, void of any emotion.

"Up till now. How come you're sitting here? This party's for you. You should be out there enjoying yourself."

Aggravation flared in her eyes. Sitting up, she turned to look at him. "Were you not listening? I told you, I do not want this position. This celebration is in honor of my being named as the next leader of the Athosians."

Ronon looked away. "Sorry. I didn't mean it that way – I know you don't want to be leader."

Teyla sighed, returning her gaze to the other partiers. "Never mind." She tapped her feet to the beat of the song in the background, and Ronon noticed for the first time that she was wearing shoes. He lifted his gaze, surprised at how nicely she cleaned up. The bright blue dress made her slimness look flattering, rather than sickly. The way she'd pulled her long hair back, with two curls hanging loose over her cheeks, showed off the delicate lines of her face to their advantage. She really was an attractive girl, though Ronon didn't feel the least bit inclined to kiss her.

"Can I ask you what might be considered a personal question?" he asked.

She stiffened visibly, but didn't look away from the dancers. "You may ask it, but I will not guarantee you an answer."

"Are you – sick?" He couldn't resist asking. Ever since he noticed how thin she looked while fighting, the thought had been nagging him.

Instead of tearing his head off, as he'd expected, Teyla bowed her head and sighed. "I guess you could say something to that effect."

Ronon blinked, but pushed on cautiously. "The other day – you looked so thin."

"The sickness I have is not contagious, Ronon." She looked up at the sky above, at the expanse of stars that glittered like a thousand jewels. "I was born with it. It is said that it is my duty to save our world through my sickness."

"Are you going to die?" He might not want to marry her, but he didn't want her to die, either. He didn't hate her _that_ much.

"Eventually, I will. By the hand of the Wraith, probably, though I'd rather die of natural causes, which is far less likely but much nicer." Teyla looked up at him, her eyes looking sunken and dark in the light of the fire. "I call it a sickness, a curse. My father thinks it is a gift. There are some who call me Wraith Witch, because of my affliction. You see now why there is nothing to celebrate? My becoming leader of the Athosians will cause nothing but misery and complaint. Hardships and pain. My mother had the same 'gift' as I, and she is dead. It did not save her, nor many of my village. I do not know what makes my father think it will save me, or the rest of the village. And now we have your people's welfare to worry about, as well."

"Why – why do they call you 'Wraith Witch'?" It seemed unfair. Sure, she was sullen and angry at the world most of the time (at least to him), but surely she wasn't like that with others.

Teyla tucked one curl of her hair behind her ear, looking him straight in the eye with a look that made him shiver. "Because somewhere deep inside me I feel a coldness, an evil darkness that has haunted my nightmares for years. A darkness that only appears when the Wraith are near, then disappears with them. Because, somewhere inside me, I hold the ability to sense the Wraith. To connect with them, in some level. So they call me Wraith Witch. They don't trust me. They think I will call the Wraith to the village, whether of my own accord or accidentally." She stood, making herself taller, and suddenly she looked frightening in the semi-darkness. "Do you see now, Ronon?"

He swallowed and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do."

She rewarded him with a small smile, then melted into the crowd. Ronon started to follow, then thought better of it. After admitting all that to him, she probably wanted to be alone.

He wondered what it would be like, to have the Sense. Ronon had heard of it before, but only as a legend. It would be easy, he supposed, to think of it as a curse. Teyla had described the feeling of the Wraith's approach as a cold, evil darkness inside her. It would be enough to drive him mad, he supposed. Perhaps that was why she was so bitter, so sullen all the time. So angry at everyone and everything, while living with that inside her. She must be terrified of the Wraith coming back, like when they'd come to cull the village and killed her mother.

Ronon leaped to his feet. He'd follow her, tell her he wasn't afraid of her, and would _never_ call her "Wraith Witch." Slipping through the crowd wasn't easy, his height a disadvantage. He jerked to a halt when his father grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?" Rowan asked.

"I'm following Teyla. I-I need to talk to her."

Rowan raised one eyebrow, but seemed to see the sincerity in his son's eyes. "Very well. Be nice." He let go of his son's arm.

"I will be," Ronon promised. He resumed his search, looking for the familiar blue dress among the rainbow colors of the crowd. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and generally having a good time. But after what Teyla had told him, he couldn't join them. The party held his interest no more.

When he reached the far edge of the party with no sign of her, Ronon knew where she'd gone. Sighing heavily, he struck out into the dark, creepy woods. At the party, with the crush of bodies and numerous fires, he'd stayed warm. But now, in the woods, he felt how cold the night was. He shivered, though he wasn't sure if it was from the temperature, or from the general spookiness of the place. _Teyla sure knows how to pick the best places to hide,_ he thought grumpily.

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to see the trail by moonlight alone. He half-ran to Teyla's tree, jumping over the brambles, fallen logs, and other things that tried to trip him up. "Teyla?" he called softly as he approached. He looked up into the tree, taking the last few steps to the trunk. Before he could get there, though, his foot caught on something, and he fell face-first onto the cold, wet ground. "Ugh!" he grumped.

A giggle floated down to him. "Sorry about that!" Teyla called.

Ronon sat up, rubbing his head. He felt around for what had tripped him. When he lifted his hand, he stared at the blue shoe he'd seen less than a half-hour before – on Teyla's foot.

"Sorry!" Teyla called again. "I did not think you would follow. I removed my shoes and left them below, so I could climb the tree."

Ronon reluctantly followed suit, taking off his own shoes before he climbed up the tree to sit on the branch across from hers. "You'll never be able to wear that dress again – you know that, right?"

Teyla looked down at the muddied hem and torn skirt, shrugging. "I do not care." Suddenly she sounded older than thirteen, almost fourteen. "Father has the seamstresses in the village working on a whole new wardrobe for me. 'You are the future leader of our people, Teyla,' he keeps telling me. 'You need to start dressing, talking, and acting like it.'" She half-laughed, half-sobbed. "I have watched my father my entire life. I know what it is like, being the leader of the Athosians. And I do not want it. There is a reason why leaders do not live long here. The stress kills them if the Wraith do not."

Ronon looked down – way down – to the ground below. They were higher up in the tree than he'd thought. "I'll help you," he said. "If it winds up that we really do have to get married – I promise I'll help you in every way I can."

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, dark eyes glittering in the moonlight. "Thank you," she said softly. "I-I really appreciate that." She looked away. "I do not know of anyone else who would make such a kind, generous offer."

A twinge of something indefinable stirred deep inside him. _She wasn't kidding when she said everyone else in the village spurns her,_ he thought. _She doesn't have any friends. No wonder she pushes everyone away. She doesn't want to get hurt._ A whole new understanding washed through him, making him bold. "Look," he said, reaching out. Changing his mind at the look on her face, he withdrew his hand. "Even if we don't want to get married – that doesn't mean we can't be _friends_, right? Don't take this wrong – you're a beautiful girl and all that, but I just don't like you that way. But I wouldn't mind being your friend – you know, if you want." He swallowed, wondering if she would get any of that jumbled-up mess.

Teyla's eyes and expression softened, perhaps for the first time since he'd known her. "You really mean it?" she asked. Suddenly she sounded young and vulnerable.

Ronon shrugged, half-grinning. "Sure," he said. "Best friends forever, and all that."

For the first time, a genuine smile curled her lips and sparkled in her eyes. "Best friends forever," she agreed.

They sat in the tree in silence for a while, listening to the distant strains of music and laughter from the party. "Do you think they noticed we are gone?" Teyla asked.

Ronon chuckled. "Well, my father saw me going after you, and asked what was going on."

Teyla looked guarded again. "What did you tell him?"

He smiled. "That I had some important things I needed to talk to you about."

She looked away again, this time up at the moon. "And what about my – my curse? That doesn't affect your decision to be my friend?"

Ronon arched his eyebrows. "Why should it?" he asked. "You're not a bad person. I admire you, really, for living with what you do. Even though it bothers you, you don't _really_ let it rule you. You still live a normal – albeit a little grumpy – life."

Teyla laughed softly, nudging his leg with her bare foot. "Stop," she said sternly. "Promise me something, friend?"

Leaning forward on the branch, Ronon grasped it with his hands to stay aboard. "Sure," he said agreeably. "Well – within reason."

"Do not be concerned. It is nothing bad." Teyla chewed her lower lip nervously, her gaze darting around, looking everywhere but at him. "Would you – please not tell your parents about me? They are very nice, and I know you trust them completely. But – I am just not ready for my secret to go out that far yet. I would like to get to know them better, before they know, too."

Ronon knew it was hard enough for her to trust him, to let him be her friend. "Of course I won't tell them – or anyone." He rapped his long fingers against his limb once. "I wouldn't betray your trust like that. But I do appreciate your telling me. It – means a lot that you trust me, since you hate me and all that."

Another small smile turned up the corner of her small mouth. "Yes, I still hate you – as a chosen husband. But – I think I like you, as my friend. I have never really had one of those before."

On Sateda, he had a lot of friends, but none really close. None he'd call his _best _friend. Certainly none with whom he could have a crazy friendship like this with Teyla. "Me too," he said.

Suddenly she went stiff, her eyes and mouth popping wide at the same time. Nervous, Ronon reached out to catch her should she fall out of the tree. "Teyla? Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh, Ancestors!" Teyla whispered. Pushing him away, she scrambled down the tree, her skirt catching and tearing with a great ripping sound on a limb. "No, no!"

"Teyla, what's wrong?" Ronon followed her down the tree as quickly as he could. She was already running down the trail far ahead of him, barefooted still because she'd forgotten her shoes in her haste. "Teyla!" Cringing, he ran after her, leaving his own shoes behind.

She pounded down the trail, a shimmering blue ghost among the trees in the moonlight. "If I hurry – I can save them!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Hurry!"

Ronon doubled his speed, striving to catch up. Never before had he known a girl who ran so fast. "From who? From _what_?!"

Then he heard a noise foreign to the night – foreign to his _life_. A strange screaming, like all the banshees of the underworld combining to sing a chorus of death. It sent a chill like nothing Ronon had felt before down his spine.

Teyla wordlessly cried out, her voice choking off into a wail of despair. Ronon pounded after her, trying not to think about the hungry, malevolent eyes he could feel boring into him. Black shadows flitted through the woods, howling and screaming at him. He wasn't sure if they were real, or figments of his frightened imagination.

"Ronon, look out!" Suddenly Teyla's small body crashed into him, sending them both spinning and falling into the underbrush lining the trail. The screaming increased in pitch, startlingly close. A bright light flashed next to them. It just barely missed as Teyla catapulted them out of the way.

"What _was_ that?" Ronon demanded.

"Wraith!" she spat. Scrambling off him, she resumed her race for the village.

Ronon clumsily regained his own footing and followed. The screams began to reach them, as the earlier celebration changed into a panicked frenzy – a feeding frenzy, he thought grimly. He suddenly foreknew Teyla's race toward her village to save her people was far too late. Reaching out, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against him. "It's too late!" he yelled into her ear, desperate to get her attention. "You can't save them, Teyla! And if you go now, you'll be taken with them!"

She struggled in his arms, kicking and pounding at him with her fists like a wild creature. "Let me go, let me go!" she screamed. "I have to get to them, I have to warn them. . ." The human screams stopped suddenly, the demon screams fading into the distance. Teyla sagged bonelessly against him, her screams fading into keening sobs. "They took Mother from me," she whimpered. "Now Father—"

A village reduced to shambles met Ronon's stunned gaze when he finally carried Teyla the rest of the way there. Being back seemed to break her out of her distraught stupor. She struggled out of his arms. "Papa!" she called. "Charin!"

Ronon stayed close to her, his eyes anxiously scanning the faces of those who were slowly emerging from downed tents and the cover of the woods. At the same time he helped Teyla look for her father, he searched for any glimpse of his own parents. Rowan had been through cullings before, though not on Sateda. He would have known what to do, would have gotten himself and Michaela out of the way. . .

An old woman approached, walking slowly, her arm around a dirt-smeared, rumpled woman who was crying into her hands.

"Charin!" Teyla grabbed Ronon's hand and ran for the woman, dragging him along behind. "Charin!"

The old woman held out her other arm, catching Teyla as the young girl fell against her. "Teyla, my child," she whispered.

"Papa!" she keened into Charin's shoulder.

The old woman met Ronon's eyes above Teyla's head. He could see the truth in them. He let go of Teyla's hand so Charin could hug the girl. "I am sorry, my dear," Charin said, smoothing her hand down Teyla's long hair.

Teyla cried harder.

The other woman looked up, and with a jolting shock Ronon recognized his mother. A cold knot formed in his stomach when he realized what her tears must mean. "Oh, Ancestors, Mother. Is. . .?" He couldn't finish.

Michaela stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her tall son's waist. "He was trying to get me and Teyla's father out of the way," she cried into Ronon's chest. "I made it, but your father and Teyla's were taken."

Reaching out with his other arm, Ronon drew Teyla and Charin into the hug he shared with his mother. Holding all three women tightly, he bowed his head between Teyla's and Michaela's and allowed himself to cry, too.

He would be helping Teyla lead the Athosians far sooner than either of them had expected.

_-To Be Continued-_

**TubaPrincess**: I'm very glad you did! There were two reasons why Ronon blushed: one, he's a teenage guy who is _not_ in love with the woman he's engaged to, and thus doesn't want to think of doing anything _ungentlemanly_ with her; and two, he's a little disappointed that his father would think that of him. (Sometimes it's really hard writing from a guy's POV. . .) I'm really glad you thought both conversations were fantastic; again, I had to go back to thinking how they _will_ be eventually, then how they could/would be at that age, in that situation. So it's wonderful to hear that you think the conversations turned out well! They're both starting to mature, yes – but things are about to change so much for them. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bunnylass**: Wow, thanks! I'm really glad you liked the first part, with the Dex family. Like you said, that side of him is hardly ever shown, and it was fun to bring that to the forefront and play with it a bit. Yes, Rowan doesn't necessarily _act_ like he understands his son, but he's a little more sympathetic than he seems. Yikes, I'm sorry the new Teyla shocked you (though I am glad it was in a good way)! Well, Teyla's going to have to grow up even more really soon. . . Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**bailey1ak**: Thank you! Yes, Ronon and Teyla are growing up, now that they better understand their respective situations. They'll continue to grow and mature – and be a little friendlier toward each other – in the coming chapters. Things are about to get a lot harder for them, too. . . Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Alexiel974**: I'm not sure whether to apologize or be happy. LOL But seriously, thank you! Even though I don't think you'll like the last line of this chapter much better. Yes, Teyla is growing and maturing, very quickly – she about has to, really, she has no other choice. Poor girl. Everything is happening around her – and Ronon – and they're left scrambling to catch up! I'm very glad you liked the conversations, both between Ronon and his father and Teyla and Ronon. Again, I had to go back to thinking about how they will be in the future, and how they probably would act then, in the situation they're in. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	8. Bittersweet

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 8/?

**-Chapter 7-**

_Bittersweet_

The sun rose, signaling the beginning of another beautiful Athosian day: an atypical end to a terrifying night. The death count numbered twelve; the missing twenty-nine. There were people to mourn, homes to be rebuilt, crops to harvest before they spoiled, and a new leader to be given power.

As the Athosian Elders gathered in one of the few undamaged tents in the settlement, Teyla threw herself into the efforts to rebuild her village. Ronon silently worked next to her, carefully observing what she did before copying her actions. Michaela returned from Sateda with a contingent of strong men to assist. "We will do this in honor of our agreement, and in memory of those – both Satedan and Athosian – lost this day," she said. Then she promptly rolled up the sleeves of her work shirt and went to join the effort. That moment, more than ever before, the Athosians and the Satedans were a team, working together for the greater good of both their peoples. The two young people – one meant to lead the Athosians, the other to marry her in order to unite the two peoples as allies – worked side-by-side, equally hard. For this while, at least, they'd set aside their differences.

**-Athos-**

"She is too _young_!"

The harsh words caught Ronon's attention as he passed the tent where the remaining Athosian Elders had congregated. Even though he knew it would be wrong of him to eavesdrop, he glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching, then slipped silently into a concealing shadow at the back of the tent.

A calm female voice answered the first. "Do you not remember our interrupted party, celebrating the announcement of the naming of a new leader? Teyla's father named _her_ as the next leader to take over our affairs _when_," she laid light emphasis on the word, "he died or was taken. Yes, during the culling last night, Tughan was taken sooner than anyone, even he, anticipated. His intent remains, however. Teyla Emmagan is meant to take over leadership of our people!"

"But she is too _young_!" the first voice repeated. "How can a thirteen years old _girl_ be a good leader for our people?"

"She is betrothed," a different male said pensively.

"You offer _that_ as a good reason? Some of the marriages in our village have been arranged since birth. At her age, Teyla is no better."

A voice Ronon recognized as Charin's rose over the others'. "Teyla Emmagan is a level-headed young woman. She risked her life last night trying to make it back to the settlement to warn us of the Wraith's coming."

"Oh, yes. And if she hadn't run off in the first place—" First began.

"She might have been taken with her father, and we would be left absolutely leaderless," Charin said sternly.

"You have a soft spot for that girl," the second man growled. "Of course you will push for her to take over immediately."

"We have been governed by the same laws for too many generations to count," Charin said. "This none of us can deny. But I believe it is time to make some revisions to the laws."

"Like what?"

"At the moment, the law states that at eighteen years of age, the arrangements made by a boy and girl's parents are to be finalized through marriage. We have one pending at this very moment. But this is no ordinary marriage: this arrangement is to finalize the alliance between our people and the Satedans. We must face the fact that it is important we support this alliance, and keep it no matter what the cost. It is also imperative that we have a leader now, in the crucial hour of our darkness. Perhaps we should alter the marriage law. Teyla will soon be fourteen years of age."

"That is a four-years' difference!" the first man roared. "No one will agree to it."

"I disagree, Valdarnaan. It is already law that marriage _can,_ in certain situations, confirm a leader's choice. We need a leader, and Teyla has been announced. With her marriage to Ronon Dex of Sateda, law mandates she can become leader."

Chilled by a growing feeling of dread, Ronon bit the edges of his tongue to keep from shouting, _No!_ He closed his eyes.

"The problem is still her age," Valdernaan growled.

"Teyla is mature beyond her years. Her entire life has been shaped for this purpose," Charin said firmly. "I propose a vote. Those in favor?"

A murmur of yeses rose. The number surprised Ronon; he felt his gut twist nervously. When only two people voted "no," a weight settled across his shoulders. His life was about to change again. He slipped away from the tent, back to where he'd left Teyla. She needed to know this immediately.

He found Teyla and Michaela in deep discussion when he returned. They both looked up at his approach, faces wearing similar expressions of deep suspicion. "Where have you been?" Teyla demanded.

"I went past the Elders' tent." Ronon shot his mother a quick glance, half shamed, half defiant, before giving his full attention to Teyla. "You need to hear what I overheard." Trying to keep his voice matter-of-fact, like a soldier making his report, he recounted the Elders' discussion.

After a disapproving frown for her son's breach of etiquette, Michaela's eyes brightened just a bit. Ronon knew planning a wedding would be just what his mother needed to take her mind off her sorrow, at least for a while. But the dark look of foreboding in Teyla's eyes made his gut twist all over again.

"What makes them think I cannot lead on my own?" Teyla hissed. "They judge me on my age and lack of experience? They should first look at my resolve and hear my ideas!"

Ronon blinked as he realized the Elders' decision was just what Teyla needed to commit herself wholeheartedly to her future as leader of the Athosians. Even though there remained the little problem of their arranged marriage, she seemed to take the rest of the new developments in stride. He briefly wondered if that had been Charin's plan all along: getting Teyla mad enough, insulted enough to become passionate about leading her people.

He caught her when she started to push past him. "Whoa, slow down," he advised. "Is it really the best idea to go charging in there? You'll be a fantastic leader of your people – your father knew it, and I know it. Maybe it would be better to let _them_ come to _you_, and let them see how ready for leadership you are."

Teyla looked up at him, her gaze frustrated. "You are right," she sighed. "Thank you, Ronon, for – for making me _think_ about the results of my actions. And for giving me time to prepare for the Elders' arrival." When he released her, she glanced at Michaela, smiling ruefully. "If they saw me like this – I would prove the naysayers right in their assessment of me."

Ronon looked down at his feet, shuffling the toes of his boots in the dirt. "I guess I'll start moving my stuff here now," he said quietly. No way escaping it now: he _had_ to marry Teyla.

She briefly met his gaze, then looked away. "I suppose you should," she whispered.

He'd expected her to blow up. But she didn't. He wondered if it was because his mother was still standing there, watching and listening, of if she'd decided to – how had Charin put it? – prove herself "mature beyond her years." Not to lose her temper, or complain, or do anything to jeopardize her leadership position, or the good of her people.

Michaela quietly glanced over her shoulder, then touched the younger woman's arm to draw her attention. "I helped erect a tent for you," she said. "It is slightly larger than the one you shared with your father. Plenty of room for the both of you, and future ch—"

Horrified at the bent of what she was saying, Ronon cleared his throat loudly, interrupting his mother. As Teyla flushed bright red from her neck to the roots of her hair, he felt similar fire suffuse his own face. "Thank you, Mother," he said pointedly.

Her eyes widened slightly, then she fluttered a wink at him. "It was the least I could do for you," she said. Wrapping her arm around Teyla's shoulders, she gave her a motherly hug. "For both of you." She drew Ronon into the hug, holding them both tightly for a moment.

Ronon awkwardly wrapped his arms around his mother and Teyla, a reluctant participant in the hug. After his loss of composure the night before, he'd tried with all his strength of will to keep himself together. But standing like this, with his mother and Teyla, it brought back again the thought that life wouldn't ever be the same. His father was gone. He couldn't even help his mother in her transition to being alone, not when he had to marry Teyla and help her lead her people. He felt desperately unprepared, but he'd have to make the best of it. He had no choice.

None of them did, anymore.

**-Athos-**

Two Months Later

Restoring Athos to a semblance of normalcy was a hard, laborious process. Split in half, half of the settlement worked on harvesting the crops, the other on rebuilding tents and refurnishing them. During that time, Ronon and Teyla moved their belongings into the tent they would soon share whenever they had a chance. Fortunately, that was the only chance he ever had to brood about the coming nuptials. The rest of the time, he was too tired, or too busy, or with increasing frequency, both.

Teyla's fourteenth birthday dawned cold but sunny. Only a few days before, the Athosians had finished both the harvest and the rebuilding of the settlement. The time between then and Teyla's birthday was then spent in preparations for celebrating Teyla's birthday, and her marriage to Ronon. Unlike his intended, though, he didn't have to view them. Instead, he returned to Sateda to spend those precious few days with his mother, only coming back to Athos the evening before the ceremony.

Michaela fussed over him all morning, wanting to make sure he looked perfect for the wedding. Ronon's tongue was raw by the end from biting it the whole time. He wanted to shout that no matter how good he looked, Teyla would never fall in love with him. Nor did it matter how good Teyla looked; he'd never fall in love with her either. As for the specter of offspring his mother had raised— His mind skittered away from the idea. In bitter truth, this was a marriage of convenience, the sacrificing of two lives to seal the treaty between Sateda and Athos. Nothing more.

Ronon tried to call unshakable calm to himself. Making it through this day – or, at least, though the wedding – was most important at the moment. After the wedding, Teyla would be whisked away to go through the Rites to make her leader of her people. Ronon could have nothing to do with that, which suited him just fine. But he still felt sorry for Teyla, who was under so much stress. Her birthday, wedding, and the burden of leadership being laid upon her, all in one day.

The wedding was a small affair, with only close friends and family in attendance. Neither had wanted it to be huge, since they didn't want it to happen, anyway. Those who were there, however, cheered loudly when the two finished their vows. When Ronon slipped Teyla's green marriage bracelet on her tiny wrist, he wondered what was going through her mind at the moment. Fear? Anxiety? Anger? He looked up into her eyes, but saw nothing except calm tranquility. It surprised him, considering how passionately she'd shown her emotions – mostly hate – in the past. She was changing right before his eyes – his best friend, a totally different girl. No, not girl – the word wasn't right for what he saw in her eyes. He saw a woman. And on some very deep level, he knew he had to grow in maturity himself so he could meet his new responsibilities.

When he kissed her this time, as was expected of them, she didn't hit him. She accepted his soft peck on her lips, her expression serene, her dark brown eyes clear of suspicion or anger. When she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm so he could walk her from the clearing (where, ironically, they'd fought each other with Bantos rods for the first time) back to the village, she actually smiled up at him.

"Happy birthday," he said softly. "I haven't had a chance to wish you one before now."

Teyla smiled politely at everyone they passed, then winced a little when she saw the crowd eagerly waiting at the outskirts of her village. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I-I do appreciate everything you are doing for my people."

Ronon gently patted her hand. "_Our_ people," he corrected softly. With the sealing of their vows in the clearing, the Athosians and Satedans had officially allied themselves – essentially becoming one race. While their cultures and technological advancements were different, they would be counted as one in all future fights, trades, and alliances.

This time her smile was truly genuine. "Our people," she agreed. Then the waiting crowd pounced upon them, and they had no further time to talk. The Athosian priests, including the one who had conducted the marriage ceremony, whisked Teyla off for perform the Rites to confirm her as the leader of Athos.

A huge feast, celebrating all three events at once, would be held that night. Since it was only mid-afternoon, Ronon had time to change out of his stiffly formal wedding clothes, and grab a quick bite of something. As he sat munching outside his and Teyla's tent, his mother came to sit next to him.

"It was a beautiful ceremony, Ronon," Michaela told him. She hugged him around his shoulders, a satisfied smile on her lips. Her voice caught only very slightly as she went on, "I wish your father could have seen. He would be so very proud of you. I know I am."

Ronon poured her some of the ubiquitous Athosian tea, watching as she cupped the mug in her hands. "Thanks, Mom."

"I know you'll have many happy years together, and be blessed with many children," she continued dreamily.

It took every ounce of will he possessed to keep from hiding his face in his hands. "Uh – thanks, Mom."

Michaela tipped her head to the side. "I'm glad I waited to give you and Teyla the painting until you were married," she sighed happily, not seeming to notice the awkwardness in his manner. "I just put it in the tent a few minutes ago."

Every day he and Teyla would look at that painting, an ever-present reminder of what his mother thought – wanted – them to be. It would be _torture_. But of course he couldn't say so. "Me too. I think she'll like it. You're a very talented painter."

His mother's eyes widened. "Ronon, I certainly hope you don't plan on giving up your own art, even though you're married now!" she exclaimed. "You are far too good an artist to let it go."

Ronon tipped his head back to squint into the sky. It wouldn't be too much longer before the sun would finally set, and the party would begin. "Don't worry. I plan to keep drawing, and painting. Just probably not as often as I used to do." He'd promised to help Teyla lead her people, and he'd stick to that promise.

Misinterpreting his action, Michaela kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, it won't be too much longer until Teyla will come."

"I'm not worried about it, Mom. She can take care of herself, trust me." He still had bruises to prove it. Even though Teyla had grown up considerably, setting aside most of her dislike for him in favor of his being her best friend, she still liked to spar with him. And beat him – sometimes.

Ronon's mother smiled serenely. "I know, Ronon," she said. "That's why I'm so happy about your marriage to her. You're a perfect match."

He nearly choked on his tea, but managed to swallow it before he spewed. "Uh – thanks, Mom."

Teyla arrived at that moment, saving him from further embarrassment. Everyone cheered when they saw her, and the party swung into action. For the rest of the evening the two were swept from group to group, receiving congratulations and good-luck wishes. When the party finally wound down late that night – but still earlier than normal, since the memory of the recent culling still fresh in everyone's minds – Ronon and Teyla retired to their tent, and their separate sleeping pallets.

Lying on his own, all the way across the tent from his wife's, Ronon lay awake far into the night listening to Teyla's even breathing. Tomorrow the _real_ work would start. He wasn't sure he was ready – if _either_ of them were ready.

He had an uneasy sense things would only get more difficult from here.

_-To Be Continued-_

**Alexiel974**: LOL! Sorry about the ending of the last chapter, though. Why do I have a feeling you're going to kill me before we even reach the chapter 10 mark? Yes, it was definitely time for change to come for Ronon and Teyla. Though they're nowhere near close enough to be lovers, they're at least friends now. This way, they won't be at each other's throats – well, not constantly, anyway. LOL Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**TheWelcomeStranger**: Thank you! Yes, it was time for Ronon and Teyla to mature a little – and at least be friends. Though they still have a very long way to go. . . Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bunnylass**: I'm sorry! Yes – Teyla and Ronon _finally_ start to understand each other, to build a friendship – and now this! They've still got quite a time left ahead of them, as things keep coming at them. . . I'm glad I can write Ronon and Teyla as friends now, but still – there are going to be a few more metaphorical mountains for them to climb, especially in the next few chapters. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**TubaPrincess**: Yes, definitely! Things are going to start happening and changing very quickly now. I, too, am glad that Ronon and Teyla had a chance to talk and sort of sort things out between them. At least they can be friends now – that's a start! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, and thank you so much for the review!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: Oh, man, I didn't mean to kill your happiness! Now I feel awful. LOL Would you kill me if I told you that I have the next 3 chapters after this one already written, waiting to be beta'd – and they've been written for the past month? o.O LOL But yes, I'd been planning to take Rowan and Tughan out for quite a while now. Teyla and Ronon need to learn how to work together, to be friends at the least – and perhaps with a little pressure off, they'll learn to get along! LOL Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -hugs-


	9. Trial by Fire

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 9/?

**-Chapter 8-**

_Trial by Fire_

It didn't take long for Ronon to become _part_ of the Athosian village. Teyla handled the leadership of the Athosians well, even for someone so young. The Elders who had originally been against her were quick to offer apology. Since he didn't need to help Teyla, at least not in a leadership position, Ronon found other ways to contribute to the wellbeing of the tribe. Hunting was his favorite pastime, allowing him to spend days – sometimes weeks – in the wilderness. The entire village banded together to help each other prepare for the rapidly-approaching cold season. Insulating the tents against the cold, preparing enough meat to last the village for the winter, and storing the crops they wouldn't trade were the top priorities for everyone.

When the first snowfall of the season arrived, everyone took cover in their tents. They only went out long enough for firewood to stoke the small, ingeniously made fireplaces in the dwellings. Returning from one such trip, Ronon found Teyla sitting at the table with her head in her hands, her narrow shoulders slumped. Hastily dropping the firewood by the doorway of the tent, he hurried over to sit next to her. "Teyla?"

She looked up, her face tear-streaked and tired. "I cannot do this, Ronon," she whispered. "I-I just cannot do this."

Ronon glanced around the tent, his eyes drawn most to the two sleeping pallets set on opposite sides of its spacious roominess. Returning his gaze to her, he said cautiously, "Um – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – I mean – if you want to annul, now that you're the official leader of—"

Teyla started laughing through her tears. "You think – oh, no, Ronon! I did not mean our marriage." She put her face in her hands again. This time, however, her shoulders shook with laughter.

Blinking in confusion, he stared at her. "Then – what do you mean?"

She quickly sobered again. "Being the leader of my people. My father – there is _no way_ I can be even half the leader he was. My people _adored_ him. They hate me. They praised every decision he made. Every single one of mine is being analyzed over and over again. I am not a leader, Ronon. I am being used as – as a _mask_ by the Elders, who are actually making all the decisions."

Ronon looked down, just then realizing he still wore his wet coat. Shrugging out of it, he carefully put his arm around her shoulders. When she didn't shove him away, he hugged her. "Teyla – you need to stand up and lead now more than ever! You need to prove to those Elders – to your people – that you _are_ a good leader, that you're meant to do this! I've seen you these past few weeks. You're doing a _great_ job. People just refuse to see it! But they will. I _know_ they will!"

Teyla rolled her eyes, either in derision at his comment or to hold back tears, Ronon couldn't tell. "You do not think you might be a _little_ biased?"

Turning her on the bench to face him, Ronon took her shoulders in his hands. "Teyla, look at me." When he had her attention, he went on. "As your best friend, I'm trying to give you a pep talk. I'm trying to tell you not to give up, to show everyone that you're just as good a leader as your father was. That you're a beautiful, determined, strong woman who knows what she wants and knows how to get it. You can be a powerful leader, but do it without losing your understanding nature. You can provide an example people will want to follow. You can be yourself, and still be what the Athosians want, even if they don't realize it yet. Just keep being yourself. I know it won't be easy, but I promise I'll be there with you, every step of the way. _I'm_ not going to give up on you. I'm not going to leave you. I'll help you fight, I'll help in whatever way I'm needed." He let out his breath, surprised at his own words. _Was that too much?_

Looking at him from beneath her lashes, Teyla looked young and vulnerable. Here in the privacy of their tent, she often looked like that. Out among her people, and in front of the Elders, she always seemed confident and in-charge. Which was why he'd been taken off-guard by her confession. He'd figured things were awkward at home because they'd had to go through with their marriage, and she didn't much like having him around.

"Thank you," she whispered softly. "You do not know how much I appreciate what you just told me." Teyla lifted her hand to swipe under her eyes, smearing away her tears. A smile twitched her lips briefly. "You are a really good friend."

Ronon grinned. "Happy to be of service," he said. Gently squeezing her shoulders one last time, he let her go. "Now let me put that wood on the fire and get you some tea." If he'd learned one thing during his time with the Athosians, it was that they thought tea was the best curative for _everything_. At every meal, they drank tea. When in mourning, they drank tea. When needing an energy boost, they drank tea. When feeling angry, they drank tea. When celebrating – well, they drank something a little stronger then. But that was the only exception Ronon could think of. But he had come to see their point – tea really was relaxing.

Teyla took the mug he offered her, cradling it in her hands as she smiled thankfully up at him. "Thank you." She sipped gingerly, careful not to burn her tongue. "It is very good."

He sat next to her again with his own cup. "It's still snowing really hard out there. Doesn't look like it's going to stop soon." Ronon glanced at a stack of dried animal hides in the corner. Most of what he'd caught while hunting had gone toward his effort to feed himself and Teyla over the cold season. "Good thing we stockpiled a lot. We might be stuck in here for a while." He sniffed, just realizing that something in the tent smelled really good. "Mm. What's that smell?"

His wife smiled. "You like it? I am making venison stew out of some of the meat you brought home. It is my mother's recipe, passed down from generation to generation." She glanced toward the heating area by the fire, her features ashamed. "I cannot make it as well as my mother, but I hope you will like it anyway."

Ronon squeezed her shoulder. "It will be great," he told her. "Even if it's not – I promise not to complain."

Teyla made a face at him. "'Even if you do not _like_ it'?" she questioned. "You instill within me _so_ much confidence."

He blinked at her, slightly taken aback. Was she actually _joking_ with him? "Wow," he said without thinking. "That was a first."

She looked away, a blush rising into her cheeks. "You make me feel like joking," she said softly, hiding behind her long hair. "I have not been able to laugh in a long time."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder again, he hugged her to his side briefly. "I'm glad I can cheer you up," he said. "You need to be happy. You _deserve_ to be happy."

Cheeks burning brighter red, Teyla pulled away and jumped to her feet. "I-I think the stew is ready," she said. Hurrying over to the fire, she stirred the stew before taking a quick taste of it.

Ronon looked down into his cup of tea. What had gotten into the both of them? He suddenly wished it wasn't snowing, so they wouldn't be stuck inside together. Before the storm was over, he was sure they'd drive each other crazy.

Only later, remembering that careless thought, did it occur to him that he should have been more careful about what he wished for.

**-Athos-**

Teyla had been comfortably wrapped in her warm covers for several hours when a shout from directly outside the tent startled her awake. Hardly before she could react, Ronon was off his pallet and headed for the entrance, weapon in hand. "Ronon?" she whispered. Her hand was already reaching for the lamp she kept by her sleeping pallet, ready to light it.

"Shh." Her young husband pulled back the tent flap, looked outside, then pulled it open.

Even though Teyla was fully dressed to keep warm, she unconsciously pulled her clothes a little tighter when one of the younger men in the village came in. In the light of the lamp Teyla had lit, his cheeks burned ruddy red from the cold. His eyes were too wide for his face, his mouth still open from where he'd been yelling.

"What's wrong with you?" Ronon growled. "It's the middle of the night. You trying to wake up the whole village?"

The young man, whom Teyla recognized as Brandon, turned toward Teyla. "Please, you must help!" he said. "There are so many already! And with the storm, they waited so long— And now it's out of control!"

Teyla pushed off her covers, shivering in the cold as she pulled on her boots. "Brandon, calm down!" she snapped. "_What_ is out of control?"

Brandon leaned over, planting his hands on his knees as he tried to get his breathing under control. "The healers' tents have begun to fill over the past few hours. At first we thought it was just the weather, as cold at it is. You know how a few of the older ones are, with aches and pains and illnesses during the cold months. But – when more and more people came, and the symptoms grew worse. . ." He trailed off.

The blood drained out of Teyla's face. She darted a quick look to Ronon, who looked as pale as she felt. "How—?" No newcomers had arrived on Athos for over two weeks to bring sickness. Just the day before, on Teyla's final check of the village before the storm arrived, everyone had been fine. But now, only hours later, people were falling ill.

"There is a plague loose in the village," Brandon announced. "As we speak, more people are going to the healers' tents."

Teyla reached for her heavy jacket, tossing Ronon's to him as she put hers on. "Lead the way," she commanded quickly. Ronon slipped on his boots and followed them out.

The icy wind cut straight through her as if she weren't wearing a fur-lined coat. Shivering so hard her teeth chattered, Teyla followed Brandon through the drifting snow to the first healer's tent, six down from Teyla and Ronon's. The old familiar panic rose up in her chest, choking off her breath. Just a few hours earlier she'd confessed to Ronon that she didn't feel she could fulfill her duties as leader of her people. Plague hadn't hit Athos for almost two generations. Did the Ancestors really need to prove her point by throwing this potential tragedy at her? What was she supposed to do?

Ducking into the warm tent, Teyla tossed back her hood and looked around. Pallets covered every available space, with narrow spaces between for the healers to walk through or kneel in. Familiar faces were everywhere, some red with fever, others bone pale. Unconsciously, Teyla reached out to grasp Ronon's arm, feeling her knees grow weak beneath her. "There are so _many_!" she whispered to no one in particular.

Brandon shot her a look verging on panic. "It gets worse," he said. "There are three other tents just like this one, full of sick people."

Ronon grasped her waist to hold her up as Teyla let out a small cry. "That is over half the village!" And half the healers. If they fell ill. . . She didn't even want to think about that possibility – probability. Plague was indiscriminate, striking healer and patient alike.

They went back out in the cold to the next healer's tent. Charin met them at the doorway, looking relatively healthy though rather hassled. "Teyla, thank the Ancestors Brandon brought you. Have you seen the others?"

"This is the second tent," she whispered. "When – _how_?"

Her old friend shook her head. "We do not know," Charin said. "A few people came in, complaining of upset stomachs and sore throats. But then, a few hours later, more started coming in. The number has grown by the hour. The healers are beginning to run out of room in their tents, and with this storm. . ." She shook her head. "To be truthful, Teyla, we are not equipped for a plague the size of the one it appears we have. If people continue to fall ill – I do not know what we will do."

Teyla pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead, trying to rein in her panic. She had to have some time to think, to consider the possibilities and ramifications of her potential actions. Her first crisis had fallen into her lap. She had to be a grownup and deal with it, even though she was terrified of doing something wrong.

Under the cover of their heavy, bulky coats, Ronon's hand secured hers and squeezed tightly. That small motion offered her the strength she needed, conveying his confidence in her. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her head, trying to look strong, in control. "My unwavering confidence lies in the healers of this village," she said, loudly enough so all the tent could hear. "These people have been working all their lives learning their occupation, and they do it well. I have little doubt that this sickness will soon be cured, and we can all go home to our families and enjoy our forced vacation. Please, remain calm, and obey every order the healers give you." Teyla went from tent to tent, repeating the same speech to them all.

By the time she and Ronon returned to their own tent, her first shock had worn off, clearing her mind enough to formulate plans of action. "We need to send someone to one of our allies for more healers, and more medicine," she said. "We do not have enough of either to handle this sickness." Ronon stoked the fire back up to warm the tent. Teyla paced behind him, rubbing her arms absently as she watched him work. "What do you think, Ronon?"

He looked up at her, his expression one of surprise. "Me?"

"Yes! What do you think we should do?" He'd promised to help her. Teyla had as much confidence in him as he had in her. She knew he could look at the situation from a different angle, from an outsider's point of view: something she could not do.

Ronon blew on the kindling to ignite the wood chunks in the fireplace. "I don't think we _can_ send people through the Ring," he responded hesitantly.

Teyla's eyes popped open wide. "But—" She bit her lip, struggling to regain control before she snapped at him. She'd asked him for his opinion, and she should listen to what he had to say. "Why not?"

"As quickly as this illness is spreading through the village, you know we are all infected," he said. "As much as we need the help, we cannot risk infecting other worlds with the plague affecting us. If we send someone to one of our allied worlds and accidentally infect them, then they accidentally infect their allies, and so on – we could start a galaxy-wide epidemic that can't be stopped. I am _not_ just saying this because I'm from Sateda, and worried about my own people, and my own people alone. Please believe me, I want to help the people of this village as much as you. But – I feel like I have to say what I did." He looked up at her, hands curled into fists in his lap.

Gazing down at him, Teyla saw the tears sparkling in Ronon's eyes, and knew he was sincere. He had seen as much as she – the suffering of the sick; the anxiety of those whose family members and friends were already ill, as they wondered if they would soon fall ill themselves; the worry the healers felt but couldn't show. And he, probably more than anyone, saw how she was suffering, though she was not ill. She suffered because her people suffered, because she doubted if she could lead them through this time of despair.

Spinning abruptly, Teyla grabbed the box of herbs she kept in a chest at the back of the tent. "It is the best we can do," she said quietly. Ronon stared at her, obviously confused.

"Go from tent to tent," she ordered him. "Tell everyone to raid their herbal supplies, and donate as much as they can to the effort. When you have as much as you can get, ration them out evenly to each of the healers' tents. I will take the north end of the village, you take the south. We will meet back here as soon as we are finished." She quickly put her coat on again.

Her husband followed suit, his expression determined. She stopped him before he could leave, however. "Thank you, Ronon," she whispered. She wanted to say more, but she didn't know what. As much as she hated their situation – both the one with her people, and their personal struggle over being caught in this loveless marriage – she couldn't help but feel a certain kind of love for him at the moment. He was helping her far more than she ever would have thought, and he was doing it selflessly, at risk to himself.

Ronon smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I believe every word of what you told your people, Teyla," he whispered. "We'll get through this." Turning, he dashed out into the cold.

Teyla ran across the village to the north side, her heart pounding, fear keeping her from noticing the bone-chilling cold. Some tents she approached – far too many! – were empty, all the inhabitants already sick. Those that were occupied, however, brought her bounties of herbs. She tucked what she received into her shoulder bag, pleased to see it more than half full by the time she reached the end of one side of the long dirt road that separated the two halves of the village. By the time she made it through the second half, her bag was close to overflowing.

She saved Charin's tent for last. She ducked through the door, feeling hope for the first time since Brandon had arrived. It was too much to hope that the survival of her village would be that easy, but perhaps the herbs could help keep her people alive until they found a more permanent solution.

Once more, Charin met her at the doorway. Her gaze fell hopefully on the bag hanging over Teyla's shoulders. "Herbs!" the younger Athosian exulted quietly. "Many people have donated their personal supply to the cause. There is hope, dear friend."

Charin placed a hand on her upper arm. "Teyla—" she hesitated, her eyes wary.

Teyla felt all her earlier hope drain out of her, along with her strength. Tears filled her eyes. "Oh no," she whispered. "Who died, Charin?"

The older woman sighed. "No one yet, dear. It is not that."

Letting out a soft breath, Teyla took a moment to thank the Ancestors that her immediate fear had not yet come true. "Then – what is wrong, Charin? What has happened?"

Charin turned, her gaze moving across the tent. Teyla's followed a moment later, confused. She scanned the in the direction her friend looked, searching for the one that had Charin so grim. . .

Then she saw.

"He managed to make it through delivering the herbs," Charin said softly. "He collapsed the moment he came through the doorway. I had one pallet left."

Teyla felt tears prick at her eyes. When she'd seen him, less than an hour before, he'd seemed fine. Tired, perhaps, but everyone in the village had been rousted from their slumber. She had had no idea. . .

"Ancestors help us all," Charin whispered. "Ronon has it, too."

_-To Be Continued-_

_**Please forgive me for taking so long to update this! Now that I'm on break from college for the holidays, I'm hoping to be able to update this, and all my other stories, with more regularity. In addition, I plan to write a lot while I'm on break, so I have a little leeway with updating just in case I reach another point where I can't write. Please forgive me?**_

**Bunnylass**: I know! In some ways, that surprised me, too. Even though I've had this story planned out for a while, bits and pieces of it are changing as I go along – and that was a big one! So I'm feeling my way along through this as Ronon and Teyla are. I don't think a situation other than the one Ronon and Teyla find themselves in in this chapter show how heavy the burden of their leadership is. . . Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm so sorry I'm so late in updating!

**TubaPrincess**: Thanks! Yes, they did! I feel the same way as you, waiting for them to realize that friendship can make the best love. They're starting to learn to live with each other, at least, without constantly being at each others' throats. That's a start! And they'll need it, considering what tortures I'm going to be putting them through in the next few chapters. . . LOL Don't worry, it's going to be a bit longer before even the _thought_ of children, or the process of creating them, crosses Ronon or Teyla's minds again. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm sorry for taking so long to update!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: Um – a few? And for quite a while now? I promise, it's not just my fault! My beta's been busy too. I have to wait for her to have time to get to them before I can post. . . But I'm hoping to be able to convince her to get ahead on beta'ing over the holidays, too. I hope not to leave you dangling so long again! Um – you can put down the gun now, please? -begs- LOL I'm sorry again for taking so long to update – but I promise to do much, much better from here! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait! -hugs-

**Alexiel974**: Thank you! (I think?) LOL I promise to try to keep you pleased with the updates, so you won't kill me, even after the story is over! Partly why I didn't give more details about the wedding is because I was hoping to leave most of it up to the readers. Everyone has their own idea of the perfect wedding, even if it is an alien one, and I wanted to make it seem special, yet personal to each reader, as they read it. I hope that made sense. . . I can definitely promise you more disputes in the future! Ronon and Teyla living in the same tent all the time, with friendship only barely keeping them from each other's throats, is definitely going to breed more argument in the future. Yes, things are definitely not going to be simple for them – and this chapter proves it. I'm sorry again for taking so long to update, but I hope it was worth the wait! Thank you so much for the review! -returns hug-


	10. Broken

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 10/?

**-Chapter 9-**

_Broken_

Teyla wended her way through the pallets to Ronon's, fear tightening her throat. If the sickness could strike that quickly, from one moment to the next knocking someone down, the hope she'd had before was useless. There _was_ no hope left. The entire village was doomed.

Ronon opened his eyes as she approached. Squinting at her in the dim light, he managed a smile. "I got all the herbs delivered," he whispered, voice hoarse.

Kneeling next to him, Teyla leaned close so no one else could hear their conversation. "That is good," she said, though that wasn't entirely what she meant. "But I do not believe all the herbs in the galaxy will have any effect on this sickness. It is too powerful, taking our people down too quickly." She didn't say what else she was thinking: it was only a matter of time before the healers began to fall ill, too.

He turned his head away to cough, then looked back at her with narrowed eyes. "What happened?" he asked. "Less than an hour ago, you were determined that this would work. Suddenly you're giving up?"

Teyla looked down at her hands, which she'd unconsciously clenched together in her lap. "This is what I meant yesterday, Ronon. The Ancestors are testing me, and I am failing miserably. I am not a leader – not a good one, anyway. I was not meant for this."

"Your father thought you were. I think you are." Ronon's eyes, glittering with fever, were surprisingly intense as he stared hard at her. "This is what _I_ was talking about, Teyla. Your people need you now, more than ever. Be confident, have faith. This will all work out, somehow."

Tears prickled at her eyes. "But I do not _feel_ confident," she whispered. "Father placed too much trust in me. No matter what you say, what I thought at first – I am not ready for this. Any of it."

Ronon grasped her hand, tugging at it slightly to draw her gaze back to his face. "You don't see what I see in you," he whispered. "What happened to the Teyla who beats me in sparring? Who's independent, strong, smart? What happened to _her_?"

"She is lost," Teyla responded. "She does not know where to turn. She – she feels like she is losing the one thing she had left." The words slipped out unbidden, but she realized that she'd been thinking them for a while. After her father's death, when she married Ronon, he'd become the one constant in her world. She'd taken him, his strength and confidence, for granted. Now she was losing the one thing that had kept her going as a leader. Without him, she couldn't face the Elders and their torments anymore.

"You never needed me," Ronon whispered. "Our people did, perhaps. We were both used to forge an alliance. But you never needed me. You can lead by yourself – you just have to have _confidence_ in yourself. You need to go out there and show everyone you _are_ a leader, and that you _believe_ you are."

"But I do _not _believe I am. I do not know what to do!" Panic rose in her throat again. After her father had announced her as the next leader of Athos, she'd expected to have many more years to watch her father lead and learn from him. Instead, he'd been taken by the Wraith, leaving her to try to figure out everything on her own. The problem with that was she was failing her people, spectacularly.

Ronon propped himself up on his elbow, sweat beading on his brow. "You have everything you need, Teyla. Your father wouldn't have made you leader if he didn't think you could handle any crisis you would face. You can do this. You'll find a way. I know you will."

A reluctant smile tried to turn up the corners of her mouth. "Are you seeing the future now?"

He tried to smile back. "Maybe," he said. Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulder, touched her face, then eased back down to his pallet again. "Now go out there and show those Elders you won't let them bully you any more. I'll be waiting to hear of your success."

A sudden, inexplicable urge made Teyla lean down to briefly press her lips against Ronon's forehead. "Feel better," she whispered. "I will try – no, I _promise_ – not to disappoint you."

Ronon grinned, though his eyes didn't hold their usual sneaky sparkle. "Good girl." He patted her knee, hand briefly tightening when he turned his head to cough again. "Go show them who's boss."

Before she left, Teyla helped Ronon drink a cup of tea. Since he wasn't as bad as some of the others – yet – most of the medicinal herbs were going towards helping the very old and very young, and the very first ones who had come down with the illness. She mixed a little honey into the usual blend to help soothe his throat and settle his stomach. While she helped him, sip by painful sip, she prayed it would help. Without his unwavering confidence in her, she knew she would have failed long before this.

The moment she left Charin's tent, she headed across the village to Puja's. The young woman stood from where she'd been helping a patient when Teyla entered. Her eyes were tired, her formerly white apron covered in a number of unidentifiable stains. One red one, though, jumped immediately to Teyla's attention. She nearly stopped breathing.

Puja shook her head, leading Teyla as far away from the patients as the tent allowed. "Some of them have started coughing up blood," she whispered. "One of the Elders is dead. Another is not far behind him." Her usually smooth forehead was wrinkled in worry.

Teyla rubbed her forehead. Her lack of sleep and the stress was beginning to catch up with her. "How much longer?"

"An hour. Maybe two."

_Dear Ancestors, _why_ are you doing this?_ "How much time passed between the time the first Elder came in, and when he died?"

Puja paused, counting on her fingers. "Less than ten hours."

Teyla moaned softly. "That does not give us much time." She quickly looked around the tent, at all the faces staring back at her. Her eyes paused only briefly when she got to the single covered pallet. "Ronon and I discussed sending someone to one of our allied worlds to get more herbs, and more healers. But we cannot risk infecting other worlds with this sickness. If we are not careful, we could start a galaxy-wide epidemic that cannot be stopped."

The healer closed her eyes briefly. "We are running out of herbs," she said softly. "I do not know what to do when they are gone."

_We will _have_ to find another way,_ Teyla thought. "I am not a healer – but is there any way we could combine herbs, to make a medicine to heal this sickness?"

Puja's eyes brightened a little. "The library," she whispered.

Teyla blinked. "The library?" she repeated.

"The scribes have recorded Athosian history for many generations," Puja said. "It is possible an epidemic such as this has hit before. If we could find that entry, and see what the healers did then. . ."

". . .We might be able to fix our problem _now_," Teyla said. "I will find what scribes I can that have not fallen ill yet and assist them myself." After Puja wrote down the symptoms to look for, Teyla pulled up her hood and went back out into the cold.

Her search of the entire village offered her the help of three scribes. Athos normally boasted the service of twelve. But, Teyla reflected grimly as they all settled down with scrolls, she would happily accept what service she could get.

It continued to snow even after the sun rose. The death toll was up to seven, and each death drove another knife of pain into Teyla's heart. There had to be _something_ in the histories that would help them!

Teyla lost one of her helpers by mid-morning. She escorted the woman to the closest healer's tent, then went back to the library. When she arrived, she found the other two scribes still hard at work, shunning much-needed sleep to try to help their people survive.

A few hours later, Teyla became aware of a scratchy ache at the back of her throat. _No, no,_ she thought desperately. She quickly made herself more tea, mixing some honey in. She _couldn't_ be sick. She had work to do. She had to save her village. Ronon – the entire village – was counting on her. She couldn't let them down.

The coughing started less than twenty minutes later. She coughed so hard she was sure her lungs would fly out of her mouth; deep, rattling coughs that brought the remaining two scribes immediately to her side. "Teyla?" the other woman asked nervously.

"I am fine," Teyla assured them. But her voice was already hoarse, ruining the impression she'd meant to convey. "Please, go back to work. I am fine." But she wasn't, she knew she wasn't. She was sick now, too. Which meant it was only a matter of time before her helpers would start showing symptoms, too.

Teyla wrapped herself in her coat, clenching her teeth and pressing her hands atop the ends of the scroll on the table in front of her to keep from shaking. She could no longer hold the scrolls up to read them, since she was shivering so hard she couldn't make out the words. There wasn't a part of her body that didn't ache, hotly and ferociously. She felt like if she moved, she would fall apart. But she forced herself to keep working, and keep gulping down tea to keep her going as long as she could.

She rolled up her most recent scroll and set it aside. Then she jumped to her feet and ran outside, going around the side of the tent before she retched up all the tea she'd taken in over the course of the morning. Teyla wrapped her arms around her heaving stomach, falling to her knees in the thick, cold snow as she kept vomiting. Tears streaked her cheeks, freezing on her face with the snowflakes that battered against her in the chill wind.

"Teyla!" Suddenly Charin was there, kneeling next to her despite the snow. Teyla saw the younger scribe, the male, hovering nearby, face anxious. Apparently he'd gone to get her help. "Thank you," she managed to whisper between heaves.

He smiled thinly and ducked back into the tent.

Charin swiped her hand across Teyla's forehead. "Ancestors, child. You are burning with fever!"

Teyla's teeth rattled violently as another shiver ripped through her. "I am c-c-cold," she chattered. "Help me up," she whispered. "I must get some blankets – I will wrap myself in them, and go back to the library. I must—"

Her friend silenced her swiftly. Wrapping an arm around the younger woman's shoulders, she helped her stand. "Shh, Teyla," she commanded. "You are in no condition to work. You have worked far past your limit. In fact, if I had known you were like this, I would have—"

"Did Byron get you?" Teyla questioned to get Charin off the subject.

"No," Charin said. "He was coming to get me, but I met him halfway here. I was coming to see you, anyway."

Teyla's stomach nearly rebelled again, this time in fear. "Why?" she whispered.

Charin looked at her long and hard, as if trying to figure out whether Teyla was in any condition to hear what she had to say.

"Please," Teyla begged.

Her friend sighed. "Things have gotten progressively worse over the past few hours. Since you went into the library, four more have died. And – and Ronon has started coughing up some blood. Not a lot – but I believe it – it is only a matter of time."

Teyla's hands clenched into fists. Shrugging off Charin's arm, she turned back in the direction of the library. "I cannot stop working," she whispered. She staggered and nearly fell, but somehow managed to keep her balance. The white world around her tipped and spun unsteadily, but she closed her eyes briefly and kept pushing her way through the snow drifts. "I must find what we need."

Charin caught her arm. "Teyla, _stop!_ What if what you are looking for is not in the histories? What if this is the first time this has happened? What then?"

Teyla grasped Charin's arms to keep herself upright. "At least then I will know I _tried_!" she said. "They are looking to _me_ for help, to save them. I must not let them down, Charin! Father trusted me enough to put me in charge. I cannot let down his memory! And Ronon – he trusts me now. I cannot let _him_ down." More tears streaked down her face, following the trails the already frozen ones had made. "Please, Charin, let me go."

Her friend hesitated. Teyla could see that Charin saw the determination in her eyes, and knew she couldn't stop her. "All right," she sighed. "But please do two things for me before you go back?"

Teyla stepped back, wary. "What?"

"Come see Ronon. He is asking for you. And please let me give you some herbs to help calm your stomach. You cannot work if you have to keep jumping up every few minutes to empty your stomach."

Reluctantly, Teyla agreed. She allowed Charin to support her all the way to her tent, which was far warmer than the outdoors. Teyla was grateful for the chance to wipe her face and rinse her mouth before she went to kneel by Ronon's pallet again. She tried to put on a brave face, to act like she wasn't sick herself. She should have known better.

Ronon opened her eyes when he felt her next to him. His hand sluggishly moved to rest on her knee, squeezing lightly. "Teyla. Thank you for coming. I did not think you would."

She blinked rapidly. Hot tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. _He looks terrible. In so few hours. . ._ "It is the least I can do," she said simply. "Something to repay the confidence you have in me."

He nodded. "Charin told me about your plan. That you've been working in the library." Ronon drew in a sharp breath, eyes tightly closed. His hand contracted around her knee almost painfully. "Sorry," he said, relaxing again. He looked closer at her, at the way she huddled in her coat, at the way her hands subtly trembled even though she had them clenched tightly in her lap. "You're sick too." It wasn't a question.

Teyla looked away. "As soon as Charin prepares me some herbal tea, I will drink it and go back to the library," she said. "I am not going to stop working."

Ronon took her chin in his hand, turning her face back to him. "You cannot help your people if you kill yourself," he whispered. "That was not what I meant when I told you to go show the Elders that you're the best leader Athos has ever seen."

She couldn't help the tears that spilled out of her eyes. "I cannot stop," she whispered. "If I do not, who will? I have two scribes left to help me, and I know it is only a matter of time before they fall ill and must stop."

"Why are you forcing yourself to do what you would not ask them to?" he demanded softly. "You just admitted you won't ask them to work after they get sick. You are _already_ sick, and you are planning to force yourself to work far beyond what you are capable."

"As long as I am able to sit, read, and think, I am going to work." She would not allow herself to be talked out of it – even though, deep inside her, she wanted to be.

Ronon pushed himself to a sitting position, his jaw locked firmly. Teyla gasped, reaching out to take him by the shoulders. "What are you _doing?!_"

His eyes, sunken and dark, glared at her with manic determination. "If you are going to work, so am I."

"No!" Teyla protested. "You are sick, you cannot work! You should be staying here, resting, trying to get better!"

Ronon's eyes gleamed, and she suddenly knew he'd tricked her. "Why don't you take your own advice?" he asked.

Hysterical laughter welled to her throat, trying to escape. Teyla swallowed it back, knowing it was inappropriate to laugh in such a situation. "Are you _trying_ to drive me crazy?" she demanded softly.

A tired smile flickered in his eyes, even though it didn't touch his lips. "Is it working?"

"Yes, Ronon, I believe it is." Teyla gently but firmly pushed him back down onto his pallet. "You will not talk me out of working, though."

Ronon pulled away and rolled over, coughing over a small bowl set next to his cot. When he rolled over again, he held a cloth to his lips. Teyla saw the red liquid in the bowl, and felt her face go white. "Especially not after that," she said, unable to keep her voice from shaking.

He closed his eyes, hand tightly clenched around the red-smeared white cloth. "I didn't want you to see that," he said.

Teyla looked around until she found a bowl of water with a cloth inside, close by her knee. She wrung out the cloth and carefully washed Ronon's face and sweaty forehead with the cool water.

Ronon caught her wrist, looking up at her as seriously as she'd ever seen him. "Please, Teyla," he whispered. "Don't go back."

With him looking at her like that, she almost gave in. The illness had changed everything: how she felt about being a leader, how she looked upon her people, how she felt about Ronon. It was all so confusing! "I have to," she said, but her voice wavered. The world suddenly tipped and spun again, nearly knocking her off balance.

Reaching up, Ronon quickly planted one hand against her shoulder. "That's what I'm talking about!" he said. His voice was almost gone. "You can't do this. You've done all you can – it's time to let others take over."

"There is no one left." Teyla braced her hands against the floor. "Jus' – just me." She swallowed and closed her eyes, praying for the world to stop spinning. She felt like she might throw up again, and she was sure Ronon wouldn't appreciate it if she did so all over him.

Across the tent, the flaps whipped open. A great swirl of snow and cold air rushed through the tent before they dropped shut again. The two scribes came in, one of them supporting the other.

Charin set down her supplies from where she'd been preparing Teyla's tea and hurried over to them. "Are you ill?" she questioned anxiously.

"Yes," Byron said, straightening. "But I think we found what you need." He held up a scroll toward Charin, like a champion fighter holding up his sword in victory.

Teyla's friend snatched the scroll from Byron's hand, carefully unrolling it. Her eyes quickly scanned the words it held, then she looked up with a quick smile. "Everyone, stay calm!" she called. "We will _potentially_ have the cure for this in just a little while. Just hold on."

Ronon looked up at her, a small smile on his face. "See, Teyla?" he whispered. "I told you everything would be okay."

"But it still feels like I failed them." The edges of her vision were beginning to go dark. She blinked sluggishly – had there always been so many people in this tent? Or had the number doubled in the past few minutes?

"Teyla? Teyla!" Ronon pushed himself up on his elbow, reaching out with his other arm to catch her as she slumped over him. She just couldn't hold herself up anymore.

"Charin!" Ronon called. "Hurry – it's Teyla!"

That was the last thing she remembered.

_-To Be Continued-_

_**Once more, I apologize for taking so-o-o long to update! Right after Christmas I got sick, then I was no sooner better than I had to go back to college. On the bright side, I got a **_**lot**_** of writing done over my time in bed, but my beta has been sick, too (I think she caught it from me), so she hasn't been able to do much, either. But I promise we will try to get updates out to you as soon as we possibly can. At the moment I am in the middle of a huge snow/ice storm that has literally frozen the middle section of America, so I'm hoping to keep our power to get another update – either "Ghost" or "Empire" – up tomorrow. Thank you so much for your patience, and I once more apologize for taking so long! ~fyd**_

**TubaPrincess**: Thank you! Yes, Ronon and Teyla are starting to trust each other more than before, but their trials are far from over. Once more, I'm so sorry for making you wait so long for the next update. But I have a lot of chapters done in advance (just finished 35, I think?) so as long as I can keep my beta working, I have a lot of chapters for backup for updating. Actually where I live it hasn't been too bad weather-wise, until today. But, on the bright side, I get at least 3 days off from college, so whoopee! Free and unexpected, but welcome, vacation. I hope the weather where you live has improved! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bunnylass**: Thank you! I'm really glad you liked the pep talk Ronon gave her in the beginning of the last chapter. I think they both really needed that. Yes, before it's all over, the majority of the village will fall. . . But I can assure you it's all going to be okay. Eventually. Though there are quite a few more trials in our intrepid lovers' futures. . . LOL Okay, I'll stop being enigmatic now. I'm sorry again for how long it's taken me to update, but I've had a lot of time to write while in bed, so I'll get my beta busy betaing and will hopefully be able to keep updates (at least on this story, hopefully the others) coming smoothly. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**noturna**: Thank you! I'm very glad you've enjoyed my story so far. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update now, but I have written a lot recently to have backup chapters, so I'll try to keep chapters coming out smoothly from here on out. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Alexiel974**: Wow, thank you! -hugs- Though you might take that back now, considering how long it took me to update again. . . -blushes- First of all, I'm sorry I almost made you cry! I promise smiles are coming soon. But this is one of many trials Ronon and Teyla will face in the near future. . . I'm glad you like the way Ronon is trusting Teyla, and showing her he does. It hasn't been an easy journey, for either of them, learning to trust each other. Especially, like you said, with the Elders hounding Teyla's every decision, every move. But they're learning! And what doesn't kill them – will make them stronger! LOL Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	11. Hushed

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 11/?

**-Chapter 10-**

_Hushed_

Awareness crept back to Teyla by miniscule degrees. First, she realized the screaming ache in her head had dulled to a minor throb. Second, she discovered her nausea had completely disappeared. And third, while her body still ached and felt weighted by an overwhelming tiredness, in general she did feel _better_. Experimentally, she twitched just a little, wondering if her other symptoms would come back. Thankfully, they didn't.

"Teyla?" A hand brushed across her forehead, then down her cheek. "Thank goodness. Your fever's broken."

"Ronon?" she croaked. My, but she was hoarse! She carefully cracked open her eyes to look up at him.

"You're finally awake!" Ronon shifted his hand from her face to her shoulder, gently squeezing. "I was wondering if you ever would. Charin said it would take a while for the medicine to kick in, to make you better since you'd worn yourself out so badly – but I was starting to get really worried."

Teyla blinked, just then realizing the major improvement in his own appearance. Although dark circles still made shadowy stains under his eyes and he looked much thinner than normal, his skin was much closer to its normal healthy color, and he was actually smiling at her. "You look – good," she whispered.

Ronon grinned. "Didn't take long for Charin to perfect the herbal mix we needed. The entire village has been dosed. Most of us are all but well. Only a few people, including you, are still recovering."

She looked around, confused. "We are back in our tent."

"Charin let me bring you home once the worst of it passed. We've been back – oh, just a little over a day now."

Teyla nearly choked. "A _day_?"

Ronon avoided her gaze. "Actually – you've been in and out for almost three. You probably don't remember too much of it. You were delirious most of the time. Took quite a lot of work to get you to drink, so you wouldn't die." His expression abruptly went drawn as he remembered things she could not.

"How many died?" she whispered.

He hesitated a moment too long. "Teyla – right now is not a good time to talk about that. You need to concentrate on feeling better—"

"I do feel better," Teyla said, her fists weakly clenching on the blankets covering her as she willed herself to rise onto her elbows. Even the shaky thinness of her voice did not blunt the note of determined command in it. "Tell me."

Ronon bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Twenty four. Including six of the Elders."

Teyla melted back onto her pallet, feeling what little bit of strength she'd regained dissolve into shock. _Twenty four! And six of the Elders – that leaves only three, including Charin!_ Tears silently welled into her eyes and spilled down her temples into her hair. She'd resented, even hated, the Elders' bullying of her, but she hadn't want any of them to _die_. The Ancestors were surely punishing her. . . A crushing weight lowered onto her chest, causing her to cough through her tears. Added to those lost in the last culling, the village had diminished by almost half.

Leaning over her, Ronon gently swiped at her eyes with a cloth. "Don't cry," he begged. "_This_ is why I didn't want to tell you! You'll make yourself worse again." Setting the cloth aside, he leaned over to wrap his arms around her shoulders and lift her into a hug.

She wanted to struggle against him; to shove him away and tell him just to _leave_ her _alone_. But somehow, she couldn't find any strength of will within her to do so. It felt so good, having someone hold her and comfort her. The security of his arms around her and his face pressed close to hers made her cling to him instead of shoving him away, as her first impulse had been to do. Ever since her father's death had forced her to take over leadership of the Athosians, she'd felt like she had to be the strong one; the one everyone came to in order to cry on her shoulder. But she'd never felt she had someone to be there for _her: _to comfort her; to hug her; to offer her kind words, assurances, or be a shoulder for her to cry on. It felt good, for once, being the one soothed, instead of the one doing the soothing.

Ronon kept one arm around her shoulders as he smoothed the other through her hair. He murmured Satedan words she couldn't understand, his tone soothing. She needed that more than the meaning of the actual words at the moment. Teyla buried her face against his shoulder, and allowed her grief to pour out as a flood of tears that drenched his shirt as he comforted her.

Eventually, as her river of heartache eased into a few sniffles, Ronon spoke. "It's still snowing outside."

The words seemed so benign, so anticlimactic to what he'd said before, the hysterical laughter she hadn't released days before unexpectedly came bursting out of her. She laughed until she hiccupped, and coughed, and could barely breathe. Ronon stared at her, obvious concern in his eyes. Teyla sensed him wondering if the entire situation had made her lose her mind. She momentarily wondered the same thing herself, but shoved the thought aside. It simply felt so good, after all that crying, to laugh again. She tried, and failed, to smother a final hiccup. "Would you like to go out in it and play?" she asked.

His eyebrows drawing together as his forehead creased, Ronon pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, then moved it to her cheek. "Are you sure you're feeling better?" he asked. "No fever – are you okay?"

Tiredness reclaimed Teyla, reminding her she actually _had_ been sick for a long time. But, for a little while, her overwhelming heartache was gone. "I am fine." She drew in a deep breath, wincing at how sore her ribs were. Crying, then laughing, then coughing, hadn't helped She didn't dare look at him. If he hated her before, what would he think of her now? Surely he wouldn't have confidence in her now, the little crybaby she'd just proved herself to be. She made an effort to steady herself; to return to her duty-anchored center. "There are things to be done – my people—"

Two fingers hooked under her chin and turned her face back toward Ronon. "Your people can wait, Teyla. They all understand what's going on. They're taking over for a while, working on keeping things going while you rest and recover. They're not going to judge you for taking time off so you won't kill yourself."

"But the Elders—" Then she remembered that most of the Elders were gone, and fresh waves of grief welled up inside her. "—I am their leader. I am responsible for their welfare. It was bad enough I could not discover the cure they needed so badly, and so many of them died. I do not have time to indulge in just lying here, doing nothing." Arms shaking under her with weakness, she started to sit up.

Ronon prevented her with firmly gentle hands on her shoulders. "Things are being taken care of, Teyla. Please, trust me." He smoothed her hair off her face with his thumbs, his green eyes dark with worry. "Charin has been by a number of times since I brought you home." He glanced over to the table, where a small cup sat next to a steaming pot of water. "She gave me something to give you. She knew you'd be like this. She insisted I put it in your tea, and make you drink it so you'd get the rest you need to recover." One of his eyebrows quirked upward. "Do I have you drug you, Teyla, to make you get the rest you need?"

This time, Teyla knew she wouldn't win. She yielded to his gently pressing hands, allowing him to ease her back down onto her pallet. "No," she acquiesced. "I promise to be a good girl and sleep."

Tucking loose curls of her hair behind her ear, Ronon smiled and nodded. "Good." Reaching up, he turned down the lamp above her sleeping pallet. "Rest well."

Teyla closed her eyes. Something hovered at the very back of her mind, nagging at her. She began counting days, from that moment back to when the epidemic started, then back to her and Ronon's wedding day. Drowsily, she opened her eyes again. "Ronon?"

He looked up from the book he had propped against his knees. He'd settled himself at the head of her bed, close by in case she needed him. "What's wrong? Do you need something?"

She licked her lips. "I missed your fifteenth birthday." For some reason, that made her feel very sad.

Ronon looked back down at his book, his expression oddly frustrated. "I was hoping you wouldn't know."

"Your mother mentioned it to me, the last time she visited." _How long ago has that been, again?_ She couldn't remember. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she wasn't finished. She still had one more very important thing to say. "I am sorry, Ronon." _Not only am I bad leader, I am a horrible wife. _Not that she and Ronon had ever expected their marriage to be normal. But still – she needed to be at least _civil_ toward him. And he _was_ still her best friend.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't worry about it," he said. "It's just another day. Besides, there were far more important things to worry about." Ronon gently patted her shoulder. "Go to sleep, Teyla." There was a definite sigh in his voice.

Instead of arguing, Teyla rolled onto her side, back to him, and obediently closed her eyes. "Good night, Ronon," she said softly.

"Good night."

When she was almost asleep, one more thing occurred to her. "Thank you. For – everything."

She didn't remember hearing Ronon's response, if he did give her one.

**-Athos-**

When Teyla awoke the second time, she felt warm and comfortable. Sighing in contentment, she snuggled her face a little deeper into her pillow, tugged her blankets a little tighter around her shoulders, and scooted back a little closer to the source of warmth behind her.

It moved.

Half-screaming, half-yelping, Teyla rolled around toward it, her elbow proceeding her.

The warm thing grunted when her elbow made contact. "Ow!" it complained.

"Ronon?!" She recognized his voice. "What – what are you _doing_?"

His sleepy green eyes stared at her from beneath half-closed eyelids. "You kept mumbling in your sleep," he muttered. "Kept saying you were 'cold, so cold.' I couldn't find more blankets, so – I-I decided to—" Blushing furiously, he started to roll away from her. "I'm sorry!" he half-growled.

"No, wait!" The words escaped Teyla's mouth before she could stop them. Of their own accord, her hands reached out to grasp his arm. "I am sorry. Please." She bit her lip. What had gotten into her?

Ronon squinted suspiciously at her. He studied her expression, her eyes. "You won't hit me again?"

Teyla flushed. "Not unless you – well – behave badly."

This time _he_ was the one laughing till he began coughing. Teyla wasn't sure whether to be happy that he thought the idea was so absurd, or to be insulted because he _didn't_ see her as an attractive girl. "That constitutes as _behaving badly,_" she muttered.

His laughter faded into chuckles. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I think I must have had some of your tea by mistake."

_No, it is just that our entire situation – our entire _lives_ – are one big laughingstock._ Teyla swallowed her words back, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "I am going back to sleep." It was abrupt, but the only thing she could think to say. She promptly rolled over, wondering if she _could_ get back to sleep. _Maybe this whole thing is a fever-induced nightmare_, she thought fuzzily. _Or a side effect of the herbs Charin gave me. Yes, that must be it. I am allergic to them. . ._

Ronon was suddenly _there_ again, a warm and comforting presence against her back. She moaned softly, deep inside her where he couldn't hear. _The Ancestors are punishing me. I have failed them, like I have failed my people, and they want to make my life one long, miserable, confusing, tortured mess._ It made sense, considering the circumstances. No other person, living or dead, could possibly have had so many unusual, torturous things happen to them. Particularly not in such a short time span.

Teyla floated in a semi-conscious haze, unable to sleep, but too tired to stay awake either. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, she was warm and comfortable, and didn't want to move. Or kick her free heat source out of bed. _I am selfish,_ she sighed to herself.

Ronon mumbled something.

"What?" She spoke before she realized he was asleep. _Well – it would appear I am not the _only_ one who talks in my sleep._ She waited for a while to see if he would talk again. When he didn't say anything after a while, she lowered her head back down to her pillow and closed her eyes.

"Teyla," he mumbled promptly.

She groaned again. Due to their positions, she could only crane her neck around to look at him. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed in sleep. "Shh," she admonished him.

"But I _love you_," he murmured insistently.

Teyla froze. Her eyes popped open wide, and her jaw dropped open. She swallowed hard, nearly choking herself in the process. In hindsight, it was a good thing – that way she couldn't scream "_What_ did you just say?!" at him like she wanted.

Like the pieces of the puzzles she used to work as a small child, things started falling into place in her mind. The way he'd been acting toward her recently – the way _she'd_ been acting toward _him_. The way she'd been _feeling_ about him. She hadn't noticed, just thinking it was their budding friendship, or their forced civility toward each other in the face of their unfortunate situation.

Truth be told, Teyla realized, she was in love with him, too.

_-To Be Continued-_

**Bunnylass**: Thank you! Yes, I know! The one good thing about being sick is it gives me oodles of time to write, when otherwise I might not have had that time. So – I guess I should be thankful! I'm sorry I scared you a bit there, about them maybe not finding the cure. I'm really glad you found the part about Teyla's symptoms growing worse realistic, I was hoping it would be! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Alexiel974**: Wow, thank you! I'm so glad the last chapter was worth the wait – and I hope this one is, too! Thank you for the well-wishes, I do feel much better now! About time. LOL I'm glad you liked the way I wrote Teyla becoming ill, with the progression of her symptoms and everything. I'm really glad you also enjoyed the moment with Ronon – I admit I was a little scared myself writing it, and I knew what was going to happen! Things quiet down a bit in this chapter, so we'll see how long it lasts. . . Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**me**: Thank you so much! Wow! It makes me so happy that you like this story so much you look for updates every other day, but it makes me feel embarrassed that I'm just now giving you one. I'm honored to hear that you like this as much as _Enduring Love_, and I hope you continue to enjoy it! Thank you so very much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	12. Confusion

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 12/?

**-Chapter 11-**

_Confusion_

For the next week, things continued the way they always had. Teyla held back from mentioning her feelings to Ronon, since he didn't say anything about his to her, in fact seeming totally unaware he'd spoken of them in his sleep. Things were already awkward enough. Teyla saw no point in making things worse.

After having funerals for those who'd died during the epidemic, Ronon and Teyla went to visit Michaela on Sateda. She'd come to Athos once during the outbreak, but had seen the warning posted by the Ring and left again. While extraordinarily happy to see her son and daughter-in-law were fine, but expressed great sadness that so many more Athosians had been lost.

Teyla truly liked Michaela. She found the woman strong, independent, though a little hardheaded at times. Most of the qualities she saw in Ronon's mother were ones she wanted to possess herself. Perhaps if she watched Michaela and learned how she acted around others, she might be able to pick up a few things to help her with her leadership.

Home looked better than good after her and Ronon's overnight stay on Sateda. To maintain the façade of their marriage in front of Michaela, the two of them had slept in Ronon's old room. But once the door was securely closed behind them, he took a pillow and an extra blanket from the bed, and curled up on the floor. Teyla, feeling guilty, insisted he join her in the bed. Nearly letting their voices get away from them in a heated if hissed argument, he finally capitulated, throwing his pillow, blanket, and self onto the too-small mattress. She suspected neither of them got much sleep, though. For her part, she'd lain stiffly staring into the dark, listening to all the little noises of the night: half hoping he would sleep talk again, half fearing that if she slept, _she_ might be the one talking in her sleep.

"Thanks for going back with me," Ronon said once they were on their way back home. "I really appreciate it. And -- I think it put Mom at ease about us."

Along with a dragging tiredness from her sleepless night, Teyla now felt a deep sense of shame about deceiving Ronon's mother. But they meant their charade for the best. Michaela had plenty of things to worry about without adding her son and daughter-in-law's marriage to the list. Besides, Teyla was sure she didn't want her mother-in-law playing matchmaker any more than she already had. "That is good," she said noncommittally.

The look on Ronon's face made it plain his thoughts ran along the same line as hers. "Thanks for letting me sleep with you last night," he said after an uncomfortable pause. His hair hung loosely around his face, so she couldn't see if he were blushing or not.

She was. "You are welcome," she said shyly.

By then, they were approaching the outskirts of the village, and neither of them had a chance to say more. Athosians flocked around to welcome them back, Teyla quickly being swept away by people who wanted to discuss "important business." After the double hits of epidemic and blizzard, herbs and food supplies were getting low, and people looked to her as their leader to somehow rectify the situation.

Teyla continued to mull over the village's problems as she worked on supper that night. Ronon sat at the table, chopping dried meat and slightly shriveled vegetables while she added spices to the boiling water over the fire. Perhaps it would be best, she decided, to send groups to several worlds, including Sateda, to gather supplies. The Athosians were far from idle during the cold season; instead of working their fields, they worked at many arts and crafts. Surely they could barter for enough to tide them through the last of winter. . .

Feeling the first positive stirrings of excitement she turned away from the stove to share her thoughts with her husband, saying quickly, "Ronon, I have an idea how we might make up the shortages in the village's supplies."

Ronon looked up from his chopping, a distracted expression on his face. "Hmm?" he asked.

Teyla quirked an eyebrow, sudden curiosity distracting her. Her stirring slowed. "What are you thinking about?"

Blinking, he shook his head slightly and lowered his eyes again. "Nothing. Just– Sorry. Daydreaming. What did you say?" He scooped the meat into a bowl and held it out to her.

A vague sense of disappointment settled over her as she took the bowl from him. Adding its contents to the soup, she turned her attention back to stirring carefully. With an effort, she kept her voice steady, though her words came out faster than she wanted. "I just said I might know how to remedy the supply situation for the village. That is what the villagers wanted to talk to me about when they dragged me off as soon as we returned home. I am sorry. Were you very bored while I was being briefed on every little thing that happened while we were gone?"

Ronon shrugged. "Nah. I was fine. I had stuff to do." He came to stand next to her, the last bowl with the tuttleroot and other vegetables in his hands. "Here."

Teyla stirred everything, inhaling the mouthwatering scent that was already rising from the pot. "Good." She checked the tea to see it had finished steeping. "Well, we should send teams of our best negotiators out to our allied worlds, to replenish our dwindling supplies. With the epidemic and the blizzard, we are all running low on supplies. I thought you and I might be one of them."

She saw interest stir in his green eyes, and for a wistful moment wished it were caused by more than his desire to see another world than Athos or Sateda. "Where would we go?" he asked.

"A place called Genii. Have you heard of it?"

"No. But if they're friends of yours, they're friends of Sateda, which means they're friends of mine. Nice people?"

Teyla shrugged. "'Friends' might be too strong a word for what we are. 'Tentative acquaintances' and 'occasional traders' are a little more accurate. They are simple farmers, like us, but they are very suspicious, even of people they know. We will have to partake of drink with them before we can begin negotiations."

"Sounds like fun," Ronon said dryly. "How strong is this stuff we'll be drinking?"

Teyla stirred the soup again, then poured the tea into two cups. She gave these to Ronon, motioning for him to put them on the table. "Only a little stronger than what we drank at our wedding feast," she said. "If you are accustomed to drink, it should not affect you." She ladled the soup into two bowls, happy to see the vegetables still seemed more or less crisp. The meat looked adequately cooked, too. . . Oh, if only she could get a handle on Charin's recipe!

Ronon took the bowl she offered him with thanks. They sat across from each other at the table, eating their meal in the silence that seemed more and more common lately. Had Ronon guessed? Was that why he was so quiet? "Is everything okay?" she asked him hesitantly.

He looked up from his bowl, looking like a boy caught in mischief. "Well—"

Teyla's spirits lifted enough to let her chuckle softly. "I am not talking about the soup. Though I _am_ sorry I cannot cook as well as Charin, or even your mother." It frustrated her, this major failing of hers. "You have just been very – quiet of late."

"Oh." Ronon spun his tea cup in his hands, his expression distant. "I guess I have been distant, lately. I've been thinking a lot about the epidemic, and stuff that happened. That – well, it reminded me of my mortality. And it made me think about a few things in a new light. Things that – well – I'm not so proud of." He looked up at her from beneath his long lashes, lips kinking into a rueful smile. "Like how rude I was to you when, and for a while after, we met."

She thought of the searing kiss he'd given her in the meadow, when they'd fought for the second time. A blush rose up her neck. "I-I did not behave much better," she said. She was very careful not to look at his lips. _Awkward, awkward, you stupid girl! Why could you not keep your lips closed against your foolish questions?_

"We've both had a lot of growing up to do," he said. "You – you've done a lot better in that respect than me."

Teyla wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Looking down at her soup again, she smiled, her blush deepening. "Thank you, Ronon."

Perhaps they did need a little business trip to ease the tension between them. Things certainly couldn't get much worse. Could they?

**-Genii-**

Though Teyla had told Ronon the Genii were inherently suspicious, she'd forgotten how _uninhibited_ they could get when inebriated. She turned down several rather inappropriate propositions, escaping by showing off the green bead bracelet around her wrist. After the first three or so, Ronon began to hover at her left shoulder, glaring at any male who came within ten feet of her. Though quite capable of taking care of herself, she had to admit how nice it was to have someone watching out for her virtue.

"We will begin negotiations in the morning, Teyla. My good friend!" Cowan, the leader of the Genii, slurred his words as he awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. His glassy eyes moved to Ronon, who maintained his possessive posture directly behind her. "And congra—congrash— Ancestors' blessings on your recent marriage."

Teyla escaped quickly after that, everyone else too drunk to notice. She and Ronon had been careful to limit their consumption of drink. As they retired to the house where they'd stay for the duration of their negotiations, Ronon let out his breath. "I thought we'd _never_ get to leave," he said, dropping limply onto the bed.

Closing the door of the bedroom behind her, Teyla made sure it was locked. The Genii had been known to wander into the wrong houses after their drinking binges, and a few kidnappings had been involved. Though confident in her ability to protect herself, and with the added protection of Ronon's presence, she didn't want to invite trouble. "I know what you mean. But we had to wait until everyone was too drunk to notice. If someone was sober enough to notice our leaving, it could cause tension at our negotiations tomorrow."

Ronon politely averted his eyes as she changed, she returning the favor as they exchanged places and he did the same. "On the other hand," she mused into the pillow covering her eyes, "I suppose we could have left sooner. But I wanted to make sure we wouldn't be noticed."

"Didn't Cowan notice?" Ronon asked, voice muffled.

"I do not believe so. He was too drunk." Teyla yawned, just then realizing how tired she really was.

Her stomach flipped when she felt the sleeping pallet move as Ronon sat down. Though they'd both agreed to sharing a room – and a bed – again, she still couldn't still her drumming heart. Would it betray her?

Ronon didn't seem to notice. He kept his back to her, lying as far away from her as the pallet would allow. "Good night, Teyla."

"Good night. Sleep well, Ronon."

"You too."

Once more, he somehow fell asleep before her. Teyla lay on her side, watching the shifting rays of moonlight through the open window. Her thoughts were far away, focused on Athos, and Sateda, and anything but the sleeping man less than a foot away. It didn't work well, but it did give her a slight distraction until she heard the owner of the house get home. Loud thumps and crashes echoed through the house as the woman made her way to her bedroom. Then silence – she must have passed out on her sleeping pallet.

Eventually, Teyla drifted into sleep, her dreams leaving her with a lingering happiness when she woke. . .

. . .Until she felt Ronon's arm, wrapped tightly around her waist.

She swallowed hard, then froze. Warmth rushed across the back of her neck, stirring the hair there. She realized he'd snuggled his face into her hair sometime during the night.

Even worse? Tucked securely into the curve of his body, she couldn't _begin_ extract herself without waking him.

_Oh, Ancestors. What are you trying to tell us?_ She dreaded Ronon's waking. What would his reaction be?

_Especially_ if he realized she was _enjoying _their accidental embrace?

_-To Be Continued-_

**me**: Thank you! I agree, Ronon and Teyla are too cute – but a little confused with each other at the moment! I'm glad I could offer you a distraction from term paper writing – I know how you feel! I have about a thousand other things I should be doing right now. . . Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bunnylass**: Thanks! LOL Yes, that was kind of out-of-the-blue, a very unusual way for them to realize how they felt about each other. Though Ronon doesn't seem to realize he was talking in his sleep. . . I'm sorry to hear you were ill! I hope you're feeling much, much better now. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**noturna**: Thank you so much! I'm glad to hear you thought the last chapter was a great one. I hope I can continue to give you enjoyable chapters! Things are starting to get very, very confusing between Ronon and Teyla – but what's life without a little drama, right? LOL Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**jewel of athos**: Oh, thank you so much! Oh, wow, I'm flattered that you enjoyed my story so much, but I'm sorry I kept you up until 5 am! I hope you didn't lose much sleep because of me. . . Well, it's still going to be a while before the two of them move past their confusion – but I can promise good things in the future! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**TubaPrincess**: Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked all the dream/sleep talking, it was a lot of fun to write! The little things you reveal in your sleep, and you don't even realize it. . . I'm glad you thought the last chapter was worth the wait (again!), and I hope you feel the same way about this one! Thank you so much for the review, I hope you enjoy!

**Alexiel974**: Wow! Thank you! I know what you mean. I felt like a rotten person for making Teyla lose so many more of her people right on the heels of the culling, but it made me feel a little better that I could put Ronon right there to help her out. If she looked around, she'd find there are a lot of people willing to help her out! I'm really glad you enjoyed the last part of the previous chapter – and I can promise that the answer to your question is coming soon! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	13. Modifications

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 13/?

**

* * *

**

**-Chapter 12-**

_Modifications_

* * *

Talking in her sleep would have been eternal _bliss_ compared to this.

Unable to prevent her reaction, Teyla went completely stiff with apprehension in Ronon's unconscious embrace. At any moment he was going to wake up and find them -- find _her_ like this. Then all their newly found civility and friendship would be over, over before it had barely started.

Just her luck.

Homey sounds from the kitchen, soon followed by delectable scents, informed her the owner of the house was up, and undoubtedly working on breakfast for all of them. She and Ronon wouldn't be bothered, however; because no matter how vulgar the Genii could be while drunk, they appreciated married couples' privacy.

Also just her luck.

Experimentally, Teyla gripped the uneven edge of the mattress with her left hand and carefully pulled, trying to shift her weight away from Ronon. His arm immediately tightened around her, holding her gently but inexorably against him. She tried twice more; both attempts yielded the same result. Resigning herself to the situation, she let go and tucked her hand under her cheek, lying quiescently in the circle of her husband's arm once she'd settled her head a little more comfortably on her pillow. She knew eventually, whether in only a few more minutes or an hour, Ronon would wake; then the comfortable life of civil routine to which she'd grown accustomed would end. She blinked hard to clear the blurriness suddenly clouding her vision.

Though _maybe_, the thought crept into her mind, maybe she could somewhat lessen the coming embarrassment if she feigned sleep. . . Forcing her body to relax from her toes up, she focused on her breathing, blowing out fewer and slower breaths. So deeply did she concentrate, she scarcely realized when she drifted into a kind of waking doze, soon lost in a hazy dreamscape populated by images of wistful, unarticulated longings. When Ronon's hand eventually moved from her waist, his callused palm smoothing gently across her midriff and catching slightly on her homespun gown, it at first seemed merely another part of her internal imaginings. Unfamiliar but totally delicious sensations tingled through her, making her want to snuggle even closer to him. Not until his fingers began tracing slow, feather-light circles around the elbow of her left arm did Teyla start to rouse from her lethargy. When he sighed softly, his breath ruffling the hair at the crown of her head, she came fully awake again. Her heart began to race, her breath to hitch unsteadily -- and not just from the shock of returning so abruptly to the real, waking world.

"Teyla." Ronon's voice, barely louder than a whisper and rough with sleep, rumbled through his chest and vibrated against her back. How could she have not noticed before his voice changing and deepening over the course of the time she'd known him? Overwhelmed by a sudden unaccountable sense of loss, she clenched her eyes shut a little more: still pretending to be asleep, while expecting at any moment for him to pull away from her and swiftly leave the bed.

But, to her surprise, he didn't. For a long moment he lay completely still as his fingers left off tracing around her elbow. Then, very slowly, he brushed them up her arm to her shoulder, there to tangle in her long curls and delicately rub one of them between thumb and forefinger. She felt herself unexpectedly relaxing again, the small, repetitive motion oddly soothing. A lump sprang to her throat as tears prickled at the backs of her eyelids. She kept them tightly closed, holding the droplets at bay. She felt _loved_: not like with her mother and father, or even with Charin, but in a different, deeply profound and heartfelt way. This, she realized, simultaneously frightened and exhilarated, this was what marriage -- a _real_ marriage, not just one of convenience -- should be: two hearts loving each other more than anything and anyone else, and completely at ease each with the other. Teyla suddenly found herself wondering what it would be like to turn toward Ronon, and return his caresses. . . Warmth prickled across her palms at the thought.

Memories swept through her, smothering the impulse under a wave of confusion. They'd agreed to be best friends, and nothing more: mostly, she saw now with belated clarity, because she had so fiercely rejected the very idea of anything else. It wasn't so much a question of when Ronon had started feeling this way toward her, but more: when had _she_ started feeling this way toward _him_? At what point had friendship changed to love? And if she were to act as she admitted she yearned to do, would he believe her change of heart to be genuine? Or would he despise himself -- and her -- for going back on their given word? Additional uncertainty stabbed through her. What if this wasn't really love at all, but only the physical consequences of their maturing bodies and forced proximity?

She had no answers, only more questions.

Unable to bear the painful tangle of conflicting thoughts and feelings, Teyla shifted slightly, as though waking. Ronon's fingers paused, withdrawing from her hair as she felt him quickly and surreptitiously roll a quarter turn onto his back. Faking obliviousness, she stretched languorously, using the motion to shift onto her stomach. She wrapped her arms around her pillow, secretly wishing all the time she could wrap them around _him_. Turning her head towards him, she slowly blinked open her eyes. "Ronon." Her voice sounded huskier than normal, even to her own ears. "Good morning." Oh, Ancestors! Could he hear her uncertainty?

Ronon, both hands now innocently behind his head, smiled at her; but the expression in his green eyes when they met hers seemed oddly far away. "Good morning, Teyla. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes." She paused to clear her throat, fighting down an insane urge to close the foot or so of distance between them. "You?"

"Well enough. It was surprisingly quiet. You had me expecting someone to charge in waving guns at us in the middle of the night."

Teyla forced a chuckle. "Did I? Perhaps I was more thorough than was needful in trying to prepare you for how -- uninhibited the Genii can be, in comparison to Athosians or Satedans. Actually, the later it becomes, the more likely it is that everyone will be too drunk to try much of anything -- um -- derogatory to their honor or ours."

"By daybreak, maybe," he quickly countered, his eyes briefly going darkly intense. "I noticed more than a few souls with derogatory intentions lurking around pretty late."

Surprising herself, she said softly and sincerely, "Always before, I have been here with my father. I am very glad you were with me this time to -- to discourage them."

"My pleasure." Ronon adjusted his head on his hands, apparently dismissing the subject. "Well -- do you think it's time to get up? Or do we get to stay in bed and play lazy for a day, while our hosts all sleep it off?"

Teyla nearly stopped breathing, even though she knew he didn't mean the words the way they sounded. Or, at least, she was fairly certain he hadn't meant them that way: had he? "Ah--" Feeling lost and confused again, she sat up briskly, adjusted her gown, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, at the same time nodding toward the sun-bright window to deflect his attention from her. "It is definitely time to get up. The Genii also have a reputation for how quickly they recover after their celebrations. Chief Cowan will be expecting us for trade negotiations right after breakfast. Which," she added as she stood, "you should be smelling." She reached for her clothes, lying folded on the room's single simply made table, and escaped behind the curtain strung across one corner of the small room to dress and regain her composure.

All through the day, though, whenever she looked at Ronon, his question echoed in the back of her mind, making her repeatedly struggle to suppress the desire for them to have done just that.

**-Genii-**

Teyla really, really, really did _not_ want to spend another night on Genii. That deep desire motivated her to wrap up trade negotiations with Chief Cowan in an amazingly short time. As she and Ronon took their leave of the Genii leader, his shrewd little eyes jumped sharply from one to the other of them. "You are a worthy successor to your father, Teyla," he said. "Marriage suits you very well. I look forward to seeing you and your husband at our Harvest Festival." After nodding at them, he turned and briskly walked away.

Ronon adjusted the carrying straps of the several large sacks of supplies he'd slung over his shoulders. "'Harvest Festival?'" he repeated.

"Yes," she replied, keeping her tone bland but flicking tiny warning glances at their similarly-loaded escorts. "It is a time of tremendously joyful celebration for the Genii. We are greatly honored to be invited personally by Chief Cowan to attend."

"I look forward to it," he said, his tone studiously delighted. But for just an instant as he glanced down at her, just before he courteously motioned for her to precede him, mischief seemed to sparkle in his eyes.

The husky Genii farmers who bore the rest of the negotiated-for commodities didn't accompany them through the Ring to Athos, but pitched their loads with practiced care through the shimmering blue surface. Before she mounted the steps of the platform, Teyla inclined her head to each of them in turn and said, "The Genii are true friends of Athos. We will not forget how you aided us, and will do the same for you if ever you have need."

The oldest of the men touched the brim of his straw hat in respect. "Journey safely," he said, then turned and led his companions back toward the village. She watched them go for a long moment, feeling strangely hesitant about returning home. Keenly aware of Ronon watching her, she stifled a sigh and joined him on the platform. As she stopped alongside him, it seemed as if she should say something, but her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. Everything that came to mind seemed either totally, insipidly banal, or dangerously close to revealing her inner turmoil. Finally, with a tiny tip of her head, she preceded him into the active Ring.

And so they returned home, silence wrapping itself around them like a too-heavy blanket.

**-Athos-**

The silence continued beyond Teyla and Ronon's return to their village on Athos, winding suffocating coils into nearly every moment they were together. Not even when she and Ronon hated each other had they talked so little. Day after day they spent attending to their separate duties within the village, night after night in the solitude of their separate pallets.

And night after wretched night Teyla listened to the sound of Ronon's breathing, her mind full of memories of waking in his arms that morning on Genii, her body aching to be cradled in them again and feeling his gentle touch. When her exhausted body did eventually lapse into sleep, her dreams continued to torment her with visions of what-if, and might-have-been.

Finally, nearly three weeks after their trip to Genii, Teyla could take it no longer. In the middle of yet another silent evening meal, she allowed her spoon to clatter into her half-empty soup bowl and glared across the table at Ronon. "_Say something_!"

Stopping just short of dipping his empty spoon into his bowl, he raised his head and blinked at her, the expression on his face compounded of equal parts surprise and confusion. She bitterly imagined he would have looked just as startled if the table had suddenly spoken to him. He swallowed hastily and said, "What?"

Teyla banged her fists on the tabletop and leaned forward. "Say something, Ronon! Anything!" All her pent up frustration exploded in a flood of words. "What is the matter with us? We do not even carry on simple conversations about the _weather_ any longer! We do not talk about the business of the village, or, or, or any other concern. We say 'Good morning' and 'Good night' to each other, but otherwise we are always silent. It is depressing, and I wish it to stop _immediately_!" She ran out of breath. Watching the look on his face change to one of deep sadness, she suddenly wished she hadn't been so rash. It wasn't entirely his fault their home was so quiet. What had she done to remedy the situation?

Ronon looked down at his spoon for a long moment as if wondering why he was holding it. Very quietly, he laid it aside and then sighed. "I'm sorry." He raised his gaze to her face, his green eyes sad and solemn. "I admit I'm not much company right now. I -- I have a few -- things -- on my mind." He looked down, and it was obvious he was struggling to put those things aside. Looking up again, he smiled; but it was clearly forced, and the troubled expression lingered in his eyes. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"

As Teyla's hands relaxed from fists, she turned them to rest palms up on the table. "What is wrong? Perhaps I can help you with these -- things?"

Ronon shook his head. "Thank you for offering, but I'm afraid there isn't anything you can do," he said. "It's -- complicated."

Teyla's heart jumped straight up into her throat. All the guilty longings and dreams of the past several weeks flashed vividly through her mind. Afraid of how he might answer, she hesitantly asked, "Did something happen on Genii to -- to cause this?"

For a brief instant, surprise and confusion flitted across his face again. "No, it has nothing to do with the Genii. It's just a few things my mother told me the last time we were on Sateda."

Teyla felt a deep sadness, mingled with a different kind of guilt, flood through her as a multitude of small things, scarcely noticed and soon dismissed, clicked together. How had she not noticed the grave quiet settling over him since their last trip to Sateda? Her mind returned to the morning when he'd held her so close and stroked her hair, thinking her still asleep. She'd been so preoccupied with her own tumultuous feelings at the time, she hadn't recognized the aura of sadness, perhaps even of regret, emanating from him. Suddenly embarrassed, she said awkwardly, "I am sorry I questioned you about it. I will leave you -- and the matter -- alone."

A genuine smile spread over Ronon's face, even though it soon faded. "No, Teyla, it's okay. I'm sorry you've been affected by my moodiness." Picking up his spoon again, he traced patterns through his soup with its tip. "I've just got a few decisions to make, ones I need to make alone. Well, I guess just one decision, but it's really important and not just for me. It's important for my family." He lifted his eyes. "For me, for you, for us. For Mother. For Athos and Sateda. I have to be sure I make the _right_ decision."

A gnawing, apprehensive ache started in her stomach. "But if it affects all of us. . ." She made herself stop. He'd said very clearly the decision was his to make; the least she could do to make up for her earlier outburst (and lack of sensitivity to the changes happening with him, her conscience added sharply) would be to trust him. "Whatever your decision, I will support you in it," she whispered.

Ronon reached across the table to grasp one of her hands. "I appreciate it, Teyla. I know you don't know what you might be agreeing to, and I appreciate your trust in me more than you know."

When, Teyla found herself wondering wildly, _when_ had he gotten to be so grown up, so -- so _mature_? There'd always been a kind of goofy, boyish exuberance behind his eyes, no matter what he was doing. Now it was no longer there, she realized how much she'd taken it for granted, and she missed it sorely. But what could have brought about this unexpected change so quickly? He was only fifteen years old. . .

Desperately attempting to lighten the moment even though she felt like bursting into tears, Teyla twined her slender fingers with his and squeezed. "Just do not be so quiet all the time, okay?" she admonished with blatantly mock severity. "It makes me nervous."

Ronon chuckled softly. "I promise." He squeezed her fingers back, his warm hand larger around hers than she remembered. Was he growing again? She couldn't honestly say. She'd thought she'd been the observant one of them, but she'd missed so many things.

Their life together was suddenly too _complicated_! When had things between them gotten so twisted up and confusing? And, most importantly, were the Ancestors trying to punish her for something?

Although they passed the rest of the evening in deliberately lighthearted chitchat, Teyla took her musings to her sleeping pallet with her. As she again lay listening to Ronon's steady breathing, she found they made no more comfortable bedfellows than her previous repressed desires. Somehow, she had to find a way to come to terms with these things happening to her, to Ronon, that were impacting their relationship in such totally unanticipated ways. She would never be the kind of wife she saw around the village; but, she decided as tears welled into her eyes, perhaps she could start to act like one, at least a little. Not just as the leader of her people, but also as a wife, she would support Ronon's choices, just as he seemed unquestioningly to support hers.

Having come to that decision, she fell into the most restful sleep she'd had since coming home from Genii, completely unaware of how life for all that family Ronon had mentioned was about to get unimaginably worse.

_-To Be Continued-_

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**Thank you to all my reviewers: _jewel of athos, TheWelcomeStranger, Alexiel974, Bunnylass, TubaPrincess, me, _and_ QueenThayet12990_! Thank you for all the lovely reviews!**


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